Last entry for National Poetry Month. Written for my creative writing class when I was a student at IUSB back in the 1990s …





I seek solace behind my infinite masks,

Searching for a different persona every day,

Several times a day;

Shy, shrewish (the taming of?), laughing, cruel, dull, interesting, creative …

Caring, rude, cold, shrewd, unfeeling, passionate ( desiring … WHAT?) …

Et cetera,

Et cetera,

Et cetera …

It never stops.

I hate the hiding of MYSELF to please society.

Whatever happened to the genuine me?

The damn-the-world girl I used to be?

I try to put on my masks as fast as I can,

But I’m too slow

And damned …

“You can’t act like that.”

I’m not an actor.

“You can’t do that.”

I didn’t DO anything!

“You’re gonna change.”

I already have — I don’t even know ME —

A chameleon constantly changing its colors,

Always conforming to belong.

Can’t I be accepted as me?

If I shed my disguises, would I have a face?

Or be anonymous — passed over without a noticeable glance?

It’s all a smokescreen, a cover-up.

Yeah, that’s me (or one of me).

There are so many of me (camouflages) from which to choose.

Halloween is a daily event for me.

Who is this me, anyway?

It’s WE. The masks are waiting.

They’re expecting me (we sorry).

Sorry? Who’s feeling sorry?

No one pities us, but us —


We’re a part of you (equals the whole).

Time to face the world

(Or mask it with illusion).

What will it be today?

Another masquerade (a self within myself?)?


Specifically simplified: Twenty-two years, six months and four days,

(Take or give several days — your choice).


Not mine.

Never mine.

I wear these transient masks for you.




8 thoughts on “Masks

      1. That’s how I felt on poetry month. LOL! But I had no doubt you sailed through with the poems you have shared. They are all so brimming with emotion and as a writer, that’s what you want. Great job!

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