Mask Off

The mask comes off, a heavy, tired thing,

No longer can I force myself to sing

Of sunshine days, or skies forever clear.

The raw, unvarnished truth is right here:

Everything is not okay.

My ledger groans with bills that never cease,

Each numeral a theft of inner peace.

My tangled mind, a storm of warring claims,

My heart, a field consumed by flickering flames.

My emotions fray, a landscape wild and vast,

Where tranquil moments simply cannot last.

I just have problems, stark and plain and true,

A constant hum of worries, old and new.

That’s reality, cold and sharp and deep,

While smiling faces secrets try to keep.

So tell me, then, with burdens on my soul,

Should I parade this fractured, broken whole?

Must every step be weighted, slow, and grim?

Or is there strength in showing what’s within?

Should I walk around being sad?

Perhaps, to simply be, is all I have.