By: Blog Admin
In front of the mirror,
I carefully construct my mask.
To hide the pain streaking through my brain,
I pull the corners of my mouth into a smile
And cajole my eyes to obedience.
I force laughs through my teeth,
So their light will shine in my eyes, obscuring the pain.
You do not know that I woke up with pain in my head,
And walked to class,
squinting at the painful sunlight.
Somewhere, in all of this, the laughter begins to bubble
easily
And the pasted smile relaxes and broadens.
But then a loud clang sends new ripples of pain through me
I meet your eyes, and, for a second, I feel my mask slip.
What can you see in my eyes?
Do they glow with strength, or smolder with pain?
I look away and adjust my mask, tweaking it to perfection.
I shiver with fear that you saw too much,
Yet quake, in terror, that you saw too little.
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