This Mask That You See

I am a figure of beauty and grace.

There is not a flaw upon my face.

I am the embodiment of perfection;

Immaculate poise and stunning complexion.

A queenly aura; handsome and regal.

One might even say the fairest one of all.

But it is a mask:

My charm, my allure, my glamour.

The beauty of me, both inside and out,

Is simply this mask that I force you to see.

A mask that hides the real me.

For you see,

This perfect porcelain face 

is truly not the real me.

But never will I remove my mask, never will I let them see;

Never will I let them see what is truly the real me.

Perhaps I am afraid. 

Afraid of what they’ll see.

Afraid of what they’ll see and think of me.

Or perhaps I’m not afraid of them at all-

perhaps the real person I’m afraid of is me.

Afraid of the unsightly parts;

The parts that are inside of me,

The parts that are who I am,

The parts that make me me.

But never will I remove this mask.

Never will I let them see.

Never will I let myself see.

So I suppose we’ll never know

What is truly the real me.