My Dad Mask

I wear the mask of dad.

the chef,

the baker,

washer of dishes,

scrubber of bathrooms,

the driver.

I wear the mask of dad.

assigning chores,

disciplining,

giving advice,

joking.

I wear the mask of dad.

planning trips,

buying gifts,

keeping you happy the best I can.

Under the mask of dad.

I am anxious,

depressed,

fighting to keep it together.

I wear the mask of dad.

the straps as tight as they can be

so you, my child

don’t see what lies beneath.

I wear the mask of dad.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like,

to not have to put on the brave face,

and just be sad.

I wear the mask of dad.

it’s all that brings me joy,

I’ve forgotten who I was,

what I did before you, my boy.

I wore the mask of friend,

but they’ve all but disappeared.

Of hopeful writer,

but I gave up for a career.

I wear the mask of dad.

It’s all that I have left,

I push on in mask of dad,

because dad is all I am.