This mask I present is just that
a mask
It's my real face but
what happens behind it
is the truth
not what you see.
Behind these eyes
I'm crying
but no tears are falling
on my cheeks.
There's a radio playing
in the back of my head
constantly
3 songs on repeat and
a playlist of hundreds of others.
Always music.
No getting away from it.
No escape.
It spins me around
messes with my head
Whose radio am I listening to?
Why are they doing this?
My mask has some cracks.
I don't know how much longer
I can hold it together.
If it breaks completely
it will be me who cracks next.
I'm not prepared for that.
© Alison Insco 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment