Masques

Masques


“Who am I?” A question I often contemplate.
I linger in the darkness, a familiar state,
hoping for an answer as I internally debate.
The response is only silence. Patiently I wait.

I look into the mirror, unsure of what I see.
Reflections of reflections. Are any of them me
or merely masks that I assume from friends and family.
leaveing me to chose: to be or not to be?

My mask is built in layers of what I want to be.
It provides protection from the world's reality.
I've worn the mask so long, it's become normality.
I have become a victim of truth's fatality.

At times my lies shatter, like shards of pottery,
unwillingly revealing my true identity.
In fear and pain I scream in loud profanity
and gather up my courage to face humanity...

and find that no one cares...
                             ...but me.

An entry for the June round of "Philosophical Musings" 
Prompt: Identity
Form: Quatrains in Monorhyme
Line Count: 18