head down

As my head hangs low, my palms are over my face.
I feel the mask,
the contours and the designs across it.
The mask feels so beautiful,
the padding and security it gives.
I look at myself in the mirror
where the designs and the colours shine so brightly.
Alas, I live in a world of fantasy.
My fingers pull the mask off slowly,
yet it stays.
I scream and yell,
tearing the mask from my face.
Yet, it stubbornly grabs my cheeks.
As the night wears on,
the battle surged.
As I picked the final pieces off my face.
The world embraced me.

I am alive.