In public,
I wear it well —
A mask of smiles,
Words sharp and light,
Jokes like armor,
Eyes that never seem to waver.

You see the me I've crafted —
But not the pain,
Not the struggles,
Not the tears,
Not the humiliations I've endured.

All of it — covered, hidden by:
Persona, protege me ab ulterius hominibus qui de me ridebant, semel ostendi infirmitatem meam, et ideo omnes non solum curaverunt, sed etiam me contumeliis affecerunt.

But with the mask,
All seems like fine, smooth glass —
Perfect, flawless,
Untouched.

Yet beneath that glass,
Cracks grow deeper,
Thin lines of truth,
Splitting under pressure.

Waiting for the moment
It all will break —
And when it breaks,
Will they see me?
Or just the shattered pieces?
Will they reach out,
Or step on the shards?
Will I be free,
Or filled with insults of my weakness?

And so, I wear the mask.

im so tired   and poisonous   and old
where do i go  my heart stuffed with this dry darkness ?
   with my aches   and my revealing pained impressions ?
death via exposure  would be timely                                          
with the short days   and straining snow   and thick winds
   i could step out   and follow their tugs and ropes north
                                        doff my gear and 'take a walk'

I wear my kindness like armour,
But don’t be fooled by the glow,
For beneath it lies a fury,
That only few will ever know.

When I choose to show you love,
It’s not a weakness, don’t be deceived,
For a heart that’s been through hell
Knows when to stay, and when to leave.

Be grateful for the peace I give,
And remember, it’s earned, not free.
For I am both fire and stillness,
And you’ll see both,
Please don’t test me.