Of Lost Concealment.

• Alarna McGovern, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2008

I am a person of many disguises, unmask me if you can.
Impossible, isn't it?
You see, no-one can really know me.
I make it an overly difficult task.
Once people know you, they can hurt you in more ways than are possible to imagine.
That’s why I keep my disguise, my face of many masks, all so I don’t get hurt.
And surprisingly, I can pull it off rather well; people never seem to suspect anything.
It’s funny to think people cannot tell, lost in their own sequence of oblivion, caught in their own world, their own problems.
Yet, my masks do not conceal all.
Truth finds it way around this obstacle and this honesty within myself cores me, presenting all the fractures and rawness which lies beneath.
A mask is a surface perfection, but why lies beneath the mask has no such perfection.
And those who don’t wear a mask, free to expose themselves to the world, I commend you.
You are brave enough to present your imperfections to the world at large, being recalcitrant to the idea of masks, of hiding your fractures and rawness.
Exposing yourself to indescribable pain, a rift within your senses.
I pity you, my loathsome self, for having to hide who you are.