Unmasked

Weekly Diary Entry

I think they’re wrong.

They were wrong to hold it against me,

Over my head like that.

And I should’ve known better.

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The masks, they want to see what’s underneath,

For confirmation but mostly to see what they want,

And they don’t get it at all: The masks are

What’s underneath, they are the truth.

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There’s nothing under.

Why’s everyone obsessed with seeing under?

It’s when I’m faceless that I’m truest;

When I’m unseen that I’m most free and beautiful:

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No shame, no expectations, no overwhelm,

No remorse; All different truths,

Some to share and others to keep close:

The masks are part of me.

This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weird Person II”.