The Mask

I drink to my limit then call it quits
Try to get up but keep falling into pits
I know its suicide, nothing much to gain
But it numbs my senses, ease my pain.

The tears have stopped, its been a while
But still haven’t manage to fake a smile
I lie when you ask me if I’m feeling okay. 
I don’t want to seem needy, I want you to stay. 

I don’t want to hurt you or damage my pride 
By confessing I’m lonely and feel hollow inside. 
So I’ll keep up the act and say the appropriate lines, 
And avoid the cliche, obvious signs.  

Except for this poem, in which I’ve confessed 
If you look past this mask, I’m clearly depressed. 

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13 thoughts on “The Mask

  1. Monai magic! You are bleeding, as a good poet should. I love this, both the said and the unsaid. You did a beautiful job. It touches me deep. And I’m happy as well as sad to read in between the lines. Know what i mean?

    Liked by 4 people

      1. But tell me, when you were finished did you not feel both a sense of release and relief? Most of the time, I do… It’s almost as if there is something inside that simply MUST come out, and eventually it will, in one way or another. Poetry is one very vibrant and often beautiful way of release. (Just my thought.) 🙂

        Liked by 2 people

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