My MaskA Poem by Prophet In The MakingI usually don't write poetry about myself, but there's a first time for everything right? A reflection on the mask I, and everyone wears to conceal our pain.
My face is stoic...
My smile is fake... But you would never know that I am broken, And suffering from a Not because of some girl that left me lying wide awake, But because of that intelligent snake Who deceived our mother And made her think that She could be on par with our eternal lover, Who constantly populates this area With a lasting state of euphoria Also known as the Holy Ghost... But it's something that I don't seem to recognize As I am always caught up in the hysteria of my own life From the times that I have been To the times that I have lied, Somewhere in between I seem to have lost the fact That at any given moment, I can die... And take with me to the grave All of the agony and pain That is hidden and disguised by The mask that rests upon my face... This mask that keeps me imprisoned in this place Where I suffocate in the deep space Of my inner thoughts. Causing many casualties to things such as: My Mentality, My Spirituality, And yes... Even my Sanity. And to you, that may be just a formality, But to me, it's an act of brutality on my spirit Yet no one can hear it, let alone see it, Because it's unfit to throw a fit And spit the essence of pain from my mandible Or to perform something so theatrical From the time of Shakespeare or Ancient Greece... So I'm left in darkened silence To contemplate my actions and Releasing my spirit into a vast abyss Of jagged bits of comparisons, That And cause me to rush after something that's always sought, Which leads me back to the question: "When will I have my Resurrection?" Will it be when I finally come to accept The fact that I'm odd? Or will it be when I take the advice of my ancestors And call upon my God, To remove the façade that I've called my home, To open my eyes to a beautiful world to roam, And to break this mask that I've worn for so long, Reviving me with the spirit of the strong So that I can finally say: My Mask... © Prophet in The Making, 2015
© 2023 Prophet In The MakingAuthor's Note
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Added on July 28, 2015 Last Updated on June 28, 2023 Tags: spoken word, poetry, Masks, Pain, self-discovery, growth AuthorProphet In The MakingPittsburgh, PAAboutIsaiah Spencer (aka Prophet in the Making, or Proph for short) is a spoken word artist, Ph.D. Candidate in Civil & Environmental Engineering, and a member of the Coloured Section Black Artists Collect.. more..Writing
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