Behind the Mask

Behind the mask I wear ,

waits another mask

and behind that,

a grim fate I dare not name.

If I stripped them all away,

If I stood here raw and faceless,

you would turn from me,

not because I am monstrous,

but because the truths I carry

would unravel the world you trust.

My masks hide scars

I cannot speak aloud,

truths of what men do when kindness dies,

when the night is unwatchful,

when the world looks away.

They are veils over stories

you only skim in newspapers,

words softened by ink

to keep you from trembling.

My mask is a streetlamp in the dark

casting light; just far enough

to comfort you,

while shadows still breed

just beyond the glow.

My masks keep you safe

from knowing what I know:

that beneath the surface of living,

there are beasts,

and I have seen their faces

I have called their names.

My mask is a mercy

a lamp held low in the dark,

so you don’t see the bodies

just outside its circle of glow.

It’s easier this way.

You sleep.

I don’t.

Because someone has to stand watch

while the beasts inside men

lick their teeth

and wait.