The man behind the mask
Spends his life in fear
Of what, he does not know
But he holds his privacy dear
His past never on showParanoid to a fault
Though the fault is never his own
Feelings locked into an inner vault
Set in a mould of stoneHis mind is but a bitter place
A sparking powder flask
Lacking empathy or grace
Is the man behind the maskBut read him and be certain
That you understand this well
We all hide ourselves behind a curtain
We are not the words we tellAs the lies spread exponentially
The question we should ask
Is it possible we could all be
The man behind the mask?
Man behind the mask
Published
I must interject that I never do wear any mask at al, except, when I can manage it, peaceful silence when no words seem potentially constructive. But I must also add that I was warned when very young that it would be impossible to live this way, and, though I’m still around a half century later of doing just that, most people would (do, in fact, clamorously and numerously) say I’m not making a very good job of life in general.
Such a wonderful writing. I think in ways all of us wear a mask of some sort, as much as we don’t want to. Or maybe, some of us do.
Brilliant poem, Dave (?) (Forgive me, but I think you said your name was Dave, but humble apologies if I’m wrong). Your words are so true. Funnily enough, I wrote a piece called ‘On Being Unmasked’ a couple of days ago. It was more about who I was behind the mask but referred to Imposter Syndrome. I often wear a mask in real life, as we all do sometimes, as you say, but here on my blog, I write from my heart and honestly without my mask. However, writing a blog when hidden behind a screen where I can be private almost replaces the mask in a way. Not sure that makes any sense. I hope you and your family are well. Did you get moved in the end, as I remember you were looking for places several months ago (I think)? Have a lovely evening. It’s been raining here since this afternoon.