Eccedentesiast

• Sandra Samson, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2021

I choose my masks well
They all line along the eggshell-white mure,
Ready to be chosen
Ready to be worn.
I chose the obnoxious smiling one on this present day,
My smile sewn up to mine ears,
my own eyes at the brim of drops of sorrow.
Nobody would realise that it was fake,
I perfected masking
My face
My emotions
My thoughts.
It was an addiction, to hide what I truly felt.
Even my own mirror deceived me.
A perfect smile was easy to hide behind,
O twas the life of an eccedentesiast.