I like to project that I am strong,
that no one can touch or shake me.
But all this is an elaborate mask
I wear to keep the real me locked away.
I hide my sorrow, pain and shame
beneath a mask of happiness and joy.
People saw what I wanted them to,
except for the few brave few who dared
to try to dig and uncover the real me.
The me who fights off pain day and night
and writes words on a page to keep from
putting red slshes in my arm.
I feel like a part of myself is slipping away
bit by tiny but until nothing is left
but an empty husk of the woman I was.
People see the sarcastic tone and
haughty attitudeand think I think
I'm all that. Well they are dead wrong.
That behavior hides a vast sea of pain and loss
I will not show to anyone I do not trust.
And maybe I make mistakes but I live through them
and allow my life to go on and unfold before me.