Everyday, same time, same place.
I take off another face.
And it fades away without a trace.
I never let the other masks go to waste.
In a dark room at the end of the hall,
are shelves of masks lining the walls.
I could wear nasty or try the perfect doll.
If you can wear one you can wear them all.
The expression of guilt from one who’s always lying.
The face of a person who never stops crying.
The defiant characteristics of one who’s not buying.
Or a favorite of mine, contorted by dying.
There are so many to choose from in here.
And behind each one there is always the fear.
But whenever I need one, one’s always near.
And no one sees through it, but it’s crystal clear.
These are all of the things that I can create.
All of it based on a false set of traits.
And though all of you will always follow the bait.
The only thing I really feel is hate.
So many creations to compare and contrast.
And everyday it becomes more of a task.
I know the question you’re all afraid to ask.
What does my real face look like if you take away the masks?
