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My life is my play.
The world is my theater.
The face I wear
is merely a mask
covering me from
chin to forehead
ear to ear.
Leaving my eyes open
as well as my nose
only to breath and see.

For different people
there are different mask.
The one I like and wear most
is the one that grows old,
worn and torn by the tears
and pain that hide behind it.
It bares a smile
so simple yet believable.
No one sees past it
except those who
look into my eyes
seeing the make up smeared.

But lately I noticed
My mask is tearing
to the condition were
it can not be worn.
others are misplaced.
My act is coming apart as I
do not know how to act.
More cast members are coming
not knowing where to place them.
My theater is crashing
my play is getting ruin.

Or is it.
One man who stands out
different from the rest
takes off my mask
which no one tried before.
He fixed my theater
Changed my play
making my character
into a leading role.
My character is me.
My old mask now sits in dust
thanks to that man
who stands by me.

*note yes this is mine all poems are mine
except for the first one I had put up on my journal.
*please comment. Please and thanks.
*wrote this today.