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The Mask

I once knew a little girl,
She was innocent and pure,
But pains of many bites and burns,
Have changed that girl for sure,

She always used to cry at night,
Her pillow getting wetter,
“It’s alright I’m sure”, she’d always say,
“Things are bound to get better”,

But as she grew she learnt,
That this was not the case,
So she changed and built a mask,
That would cover her true face,

This mask did help protect her,
From all emotional bruising,
But never did she suspect,
All the things that she was losing,

One day a few years later,
She took off that strong mask,
But no longer knew the girl underneath,
“Who is this girl?” she’d ask,

She’d cried that night only wishing,
She could go back to that day,
When she’d made that mask of cold heart,
And throw it far away,

But by then it was too late,
The damage had been done,
She’d lost that girl from underneath,
The one that was bright and fun,

So she decided to do the next best thing,
Get back what she had lost,
And though troubled by the future,
It was worth all that it cost,

Though she’d tried so hard,
Can I say they are the same?
The new girl and the first one,
No I think not, what a shame,

Though I do say she is better off,
Then those who still wear that mask,
But how should I know such a thing,
You probably do ask,

For I was once that little girl,
The one that made the choice,
To lose the mask; begin again,
And regain her old voice,

The moral of this story is, 
That there is no worse pain,
Then losing yourself and realising,
That you have to start again,

So just know one thing for sure,
And take it all from me,
That when you’re at your purest,
Then you should just leave it be...

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