A man with many faces
Is a man with the cleverest lies
He knows how to hide his secrets
And keep them from prying eyes

A man with many masks
Is a man with a practiced smile
He knows how to end his foes
And act their friend all the while

A man with many ears
Is a man who won't be surprised
He knows what his enemies plan
And he acts out the perfect reprise

A man with many faces
Is a man who will live long and well
But ask yourself this, my friend
Will he live in heaven or hell?

Seeing happy holiday faces
Sappy sentiment and saccharine smiles
** ** **, and jolly jelly laughs
Pondering the likelihood
That their smiles are as porcelain as my own
Painted lips in Victorian red
Eyes done up in glitter and paint
Hoping that happy leaches into grown ups
From the wonder and joy that is the truth of babes

People assume things. They tend to do so every day, no matter the situation. Why? Who knows. What? All kinds of things. For example, they assume that the happiness I show them is real, when it is only a faqade. My happiness is the mask I use to hide my bitterness, my hate, my depression, my anxiety, my lonliness, my helplessness, and the broken pieces that I truly am. I mask many more things than this. My sanity is the mask I use to cover the fact that I truly am not in the right mind. I might not be insane, but I am certainly mentally unstable. My wholesomeness is the mask I use to hide the fact that I am beyond repair. I am broken in heart, mind, and spirit. My body may be intact, but the soul it masks is broken. It is broken in a million pieces and these pieces are slowly turning to dust - beyond repair. My smile is the mask that hides my tears. The tears that fall when no one is looking. My laugh is the mask that hides the screams of pain that constantly **** me from sleep. The screams echo in my ears and they never vanish until sleep takes over again. The make-up on my face is the mask that covers the tear tracks. My empty, emotionless eyes are the mask that keep my inner despair hidden. The hat, or hood of my hoodie are the masks that hide my scarred scalp. The scars there are from countless hairs being pulled out by my bare hands when I have a breakdown. My pants are the mask that cover my scarred thighs. The scars are from countless nights of countlessly and raggedly drawing razorblades across my sensitive skin. I am completely and utterly masked, hiding everything true about myself like a coward. I even take it so far as to hide my cowardice with a mask called strength. It is better to be masked than left out in the open with nothing to shield yourself, wouldn't you think?

Masks is all I've ever known. All i thought i knew was camouflaged by the complacent world around me. I grew with a fool's sight and an idiot's judgement. I learned eventually, that everyone gets to make their own mask.  You knew how to pull mine away from my skin for moments that seemed to stand still, lacking oxygen. I got defensive at the fact that your mask was so thick, and seemed to be sewn into your cheeks. I never even got to see you remove the mask before the tides yanked me into the storm of insanity. My heart slows at the sight of the empty roads, they remind me of the look in your eyes the night you told me I wasn't worth the trouble. I'm galaxies away from a place to call home. The dark sky mocks me in a way I never thought so heart wrenching.  The lights don't comfort me like they did before your eyes grazed across my skin. It wasn't until you left I realized you were using bullets instead of kisses. And my shell shock still persists. I have gun shells lodged in my skin. Your subliminal phrases struck glass into my mouth like lightning, which runs like tornadoes through my lungs. When I breathe out, all that escapes is you. I thought I was tough using your words as armor, i was convinced that that is what tough was. I didn't let anyone remove the metal from my chest, and no one gained access to the tender parts of my body. I believed in my heart that I was protecting myself, building an imaginary shield. Encasing myself in fear and caution.  But now I can see the glass in my lungs was only smoke from the cigarettes I held onto late at night, a substitute for your hand in mine. The artillery living inside my skin was just purple scars and it wasn't shock, it was highly dilated pain. Heart stopping, ***** inducing pain. And it wasn't going to go away. Because if I'm using my pain as armor, when can happiness ever replace that?

She is a small glass vase
With beautiful flowers painted
Hastily on
Only the outside barring paint
She is strong enough
To hold tight
Whatever treasure you put inside
She is beautiful
And perfect to the eye
But if you look closely
You can see
The spiderweb cracks
Where she was dropped
The cracks that scarred but never broke her
The cracks that never heal

She is a canvas
Of pure white
Painted over and over again
To create the perfect image
The one that pleases all
With only few specks
Of her true canvas showing through

She is a treasure chest
Covered in gems and paint
But the beauty of the box
Cannot begin to compare
With the gold within
The gold that is hidden
By the steel lock
That if you force
Will clamp much tighter
But with the perfect key
Will open with ease
To let your eyes
Veiw the rare gift
That is her treasure within

We all wear masks,
Some are elegant,
Some are deviant,
And some bizarre-looking.

We all wear masks,
Be it brilliant or dull,
Extravagant or simple;
Some a smile, some gloomy,
And some a frown.

For we are all theatrical;
We go about our masks,
We don them very well,
We want our faces kept hidden,
That no sunlight could touch them.
And we display ourselves,
That this is the real me, you, us.

We always look in the mirror,
Adoring our masks,
Obsessing over it,
Till we completely forget
What our true faces look like.
So we state to impress,
As we gather in a masquerade,
Dancing like devils in the night of lies.

"How are you" ,they ask almost monotone-like.
"I'm great " she responds.
Her smile fades as soon as there eyes close.
Her heart breaks just as images flash in her brain.
Holding her head she lets out a silent scream.
Can they not see?
A smile here.
A tears there,
Always disguised,
Never to let rise.
Holding in her demons,
But how long will she last
Before what she fears, lashes back at her.
"I'm fine..
I'm okay ...
I'm alright...
I'm....
I ....
Hello....
Hey....
Help...
Me...."