It's not the dresses we buy
Or cut our hair short and dye.
It's not how we get new glasses or chains
Do we really know what of us truly remain?
No, we do not change by appearance
We only change from the core of our hearts,
No, we never reveal our real beauty
But we wear a beautiful mask.
It's about the masks we wear
It's about the lies we share,
So nobody must know what hides beneath these faces,
Is there anybody left for me to care?
It's been so long I've been wearing my mask,
I can't tell who I am now
Or who I really was.
Was I a painter?
Was I writer?
Or a dreamer perhaps?
Or did I come from nothing?
And to nothing my spirit will collapse.

There's a reason people think I'm mean
why I seem so hateful and different
I guess I used to be so nice to everyone
because I needed to hide behind a mask
a mask that made me seem happy
made me seem kind

Of course i'm still kind,
I know what it feels like to feel
left out
disliked
alone.
So I'm nice to the people I know need it
the people like me,
who need someone to tell them it's okay,
like a flower needs the sun

we all want that warmth,
that warmth that is the love of those around us

I know that my parents think I'm different
I'm not the same little girl they once knew
I'm not cheerful
I'm not optomistic
Something broke inside me
like a bone when you hit the ground

For some, the bone might heal correctly
And come back stronger,
making them a better person
those are the people we want to know about.
the damaged people who became normal

But what about the others?
The bones that didn't grow back?
The bones that became twisted
and cracked again
the ones weaker than before.
no one wants to hear about those people
because no one wants to be tied down
or responsible,
for that sob story in their doorway

I don't know where I fall yet.
I'm still in the process of healing
and I have been for nine years.
every time I get close, something bends the bone a little
and sends me down a hole of pain

So no.
I'm not that happy little girl.
I'm not innocent anymore.
and that mask i kept on so tight,
the mask I wore to make you feel better,
to make you feel happy.
because i wanted you to be happy
It made me feel good for just a second,
when you would smile and forget about what made you sad.

That was my job
to make you happy.
I needed your smile,
never thinking of when I should smile too.
the only smile I knew was the one I painted on the mask
Maybe somewhere along the line, I asked myself;

When will I be happy?
and maybe it was selfish,
maybe it was inconvenient
but I ask myself that question every day
because this mask is getting a little too tight
and I need something long lasting,
because your short smiles aren't enough anymore.
once it's gone I get the shakes,
like an addict.
I need something to remind me to be happy.
there's an app for everything these days,
I wish there was an app for happiness.

You're the only one who makes me happy.
Lets me take the mask off now and again,
but Then I have to put it back on,
and wear it home
and I sleep in it,
eat in it,
shower in it,
This mask is getting tighter,
and I hope you won't be mad
when it just breaks.

Do they think I am ugly?
Do they feel I am dumb?
Am I hopeless? Am I stupid?
Am I worthless? Am I ****?

Do they even like me?
Or are they just being nice
Questions like these
Went daily through my mind

I acted like I ain’t afraid of anything
Like I am just being myself
Though inside I felt miserable
Like a cobweb on a shelf

On this very face of mine
I have put masks for years
Hiding all my insecurities
Hiding all my fears

I pretended to be
Someone I am not
A girl who looks pretty
A girl they think is hot

I kept putting on these masks
Till they became a part of me
As slowly and gradually
They grew to reality

But lately I realized
I was losing my soul
Living in a fake world
Growing up a hole

I didn’t have any idea
Who I actually was
When I came to terms with that
The masks began to fall

And as the masks fell one by one
There was a different girl underneath
A girl who could face her demons
And believe in herself

This was a journey with many hills
And sometimes it was ok to be in a valley
A mask may help to’ fake it ‘til you make it’
Until you start living your own poetry

The Devil softly spoke,
To the foolish earthly folk:
By idiocy you are enslaved,
Your morals are depraved.

Set your souls free,
For I proudly foresee -
With might, you may reign
And without masks of vain.

You will be saved from emotional pain,
You won’t have a reputation to maintain,
Worldly pleasures will be yours to obtain,
Treasures will be easy to maintain.

You just have to set yourself free,
You must set yourself completely free!
Free from rotten morals of progress,
From the false virtues of the virtueless.

...the Devil advocated for his ways,
Who he deemed fitting for our days.
And while it might sound repulsive,
This is also a preposition compulsive.

Now I speak: the world is doomed,
By its own idiocy, it is consumed.
The morals had gone wrong and vile
Ancient virtues are out of style!...

Ergo hear me and set free,
For I too proudly foresee -
With vigour, you shall reign
If you drop the masks of vain.