That mask
you wear inside
to cover up
your fear
of being who you really are.
The consequence defaced.
Swimming around the brim
of your inner monologue.
About to overflow,
and spill out monsters.
It seems that way,
for your are disconnected.
Unplugged from who you are
for so long.
Nursing at the breast
of a surrogate mother,
who is
as real a lie as we can make.
Part of you
still remembers,
the mountains,
and the prairie,
and the sea.
That which moves in you
is alien,
because it never sees
the light of day.
Cover it up.
Cover it and bury it deep,
until it becomes a monster
swimming around in the weeds.
You don’t know who you are.
It’s obvious to anyone who can see.
You’ve been separated
from yourself
for so long,
that you think
you’re something weak.
Concealing you from you
is just anathema
to growth,
and in your nature
lies your way.
Reveal yourself
to yourself.
Look you in the eye
and go from there.
So well trained
at masquerading.
So conditioned
to obey.
There was nothing wrong
with who you were
in the first place.
Not a monster
behind that face.
HG – 2020
this is so beautiful.
it actually connects to something I read earlier today in the novel, “ On earth we’re briefly gorgeous“ by Ocean Vuong.
it read as the following;
““You’re not a monster,” I said.
But I lied.
What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.””
so even if we were a monster, it wouldn’t be a good enough reason to put on a mask. “
anyways I just wanted to share that with you. I really enjoyed what you wrote.
Wow. That’s really cool. Thanks for sharing that with me.