The mask
The mask that I have to wear
The concealed task of covers
The look to all that is dear
The confident guise always appears
Crushed by the reality
Like never before,
Dreams lose their meaning
Falling a thousand pieces on the floor.
Words fade out
Ink pauses in such times
Time pass out
Pushing your effort into faint lines
A look in the mirror
Is this really me
The mask is off, yes
But who else could it be
I barely recognize
My own pair of eyes
But I used to be alive
It is only now that I realize
There was a day that I was free
The days that I could be me
Reality has stolen the light
Giving me the mask to pretend
Gone is the shine in my sight
Giving me the task to depend
Lying on the bed I’m crying
My tear soaked pillow will testify
Standing on the street my faith is dying
But they pause, look then pass me by
How can I stay focus day in day out
When I’m heavily drowning in doubt
When the mask fails to blind me to distrust
Behind the confident guise of a smile
Is a broken girl trying to cope in
And make life worth while
But as for the mask when will my face actually grow a permanent one of a smile?
My lines are not written , they are crafted .
By: Aba Radical
The Photographer of Thoughts
The concealed task of covers
The look to all that is dear
The confident guise always appears
Crushed by the reality
Like never before,
Dreams lose their meaning
Falling a thousand pieces on the floor.
Words fade out
Ink pauses in such times
Time pass out
Pushing your effort into faint lines
A look in the mirror
Is this really me
The mask is off, yes
But who else could it be
I barely recognize
My own pair of eyes
But I used to be alive
It is only now that I realize
There was a day that I was free
The days that I could be me
Reality has stolen the light
Giving me the mask to pretend
Gone is the shine in my sight
Giving me the task to depend
Lying on the bed I’m crying
My tear soaked pillow will testify
Standing on the street my faith is dying
But they pause, look then pass me by
How can I stay focus day in day out
When I’m heavily drowning in doubt
When the mask fails to blind me to distrust
Behind the confident guise of a smile
Is a broken girl trying to cope in
And make life worth while
But as for the mask when will my face actually grow a permanent one of a smile?
My lines are not written , they are crafted .
By: Aba Radical
The Photographer of Thoughts
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