Masks

Your mask annoys me.

Maybe because it reminds me of mine,

And I'm tired of wearing a mask...

And tired of seeing you wear one too.

.

Look at us,

All dancing around

In this masquerade.

You don't know me,

And I don't know you.

So let's not pretend...

Let’s just dance our dance,

Our masks in place,

Perfect anonymity.

.

But look at the masks!

The oh-so-boring masks!

.

God, they used to be so interesting...

When it was new.

But now...

Now, I've started to recognize them.

The masks are being up-cycled-

Slightly different,

But still the same.

It's all cliche and boring.

I've become cliche and boring.

.

My face has started to itch.

I think I've developed an allergy to the mask.

.

Fuck it!

.

I take off my mask...

I am now unlike those around me–

My wild exposed.

.

I am restless.

I am bored.

I am surly.

I am unamused.

And I don't care what THEY think.

.

Everything spills out of my tightly wrapped box-

My tits, my fat, my attitude.

.

And suddenly I can breathe!

.

I no longer have to remember the dance steps...

Besides, they are now too small for this open space.

.

No longer blocked in, I'm outside.

No borders.

No limits.

My ugly soaks up the sun...

And it's never felt better.

.

Apparently the sun doesn't care which version I present,

It warms me all the same.