italianwoman

Removing the Mask

I never thought how good it would feel,

To not have to be fake, to be honest and real.

I never knew the comfort of showing my face,

Or accepting somebody else’s grace.

To me, life had always been a game,

Keep away and lay on the blame.

It’s not my fault, it wasn’t my choice.

I couldn’t talk or use my voice.

I’ve always felt anger towards the source of my pain.

The person who’s absence was my only gain.

I thought that healing would forever elude me,

And that I would never truly be free.

I struggled with forgiveness for them and myself.

I forgave their faults, my wrongly placed blame.

Even with forgiveness I still felt the same.

It didn’t matter that they weren’t around.

I felt like my feet were stuck to the ground.

I refused to let go and still hid behind my mask.

Being around people was the hardest task.

Afraid I’d crack, afraid they’d see....

A coward, a fake.... the real me.

I hid in my silence, my lies a never ending game.

I remembered my innocence and wished it were the same,

When I wasn’t concerned about the past, the present, or my future.

When I had no doubts of anything, when I was never unsure.

I’m holding on so tight, to my hatred and my fear.

They’re all I’ve ever known, they’re all that’s ever been clear.

How will I function if they’re suddenly gone?

What then will I base my mask upon?

Will it still be any good? Will it fool anymore?

If I don’t have it.... then what will people judge me for?

For who I really am? For what I’ve really done?

I sorta wanna know, and this time I’m not gonna run.

I’m tired of holding in the pain

And I’m ready... I’m ready to let it go.