The Mask
You see the mask
and assume you know me.
Your confirmation bias allows me
to slip by undetected
if I were to ever act out of character--
which I don’t.
The pain continues to throb,
but no one will ever know
what I’ve done--
what I had to do--
as it sits covered up
by the truth you choose to believe.
The truth I need to believe.
I see the mask
and choose to believe it’s me
because the lurking secrets
threaten to swallow my world
and leave me in the darkness they’ve built.
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