The Face
It’s unbearable, being me.
Very hard and difficult
Trying to put on the face for faces
To please people of different
Races and places and tastes
I know to laugh when the
Punch line is given, to thank when
I’ve been given, even for the smallest of things.
I know to cry when
Others are grieving, to puzzle over
Others confusion, yet never tell them
That they, in fact, were in the wrong.
I want to know when I can
Laugh and cry for me.
Is it so much to ask for?
Is it too late to turn back now?
Is it rude to take off my face,
And show them the soul underneath?
Will the world crumble under me
For doing such an unforgivable thing
I find it harder every day,
To take off the face,
Even when I am alone.
Shall I die with such a fake face?
I do not want to.
No! I refuse to meet my Maker
At his heavenly gates, as a stranger
With someone else’s face
I fear he will turn me down
For he will not know it is me.
My Heavenly Father will not know me.
I shall remove this face while I still can,
For I have only two beings to please,
My Creator and me.
Copyright © Donita Bowman | Year Posted 2006
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