In life’s grand masquerade,
I wear masks—shifting my personalities,
like a chameleon’s skin,
I adapt to awaiting expectations.
At work,
wielding expertise and proficiency,
stiff and stern—
a façade of demanded service that pleases strangers.
To my parents,
I forge a mask of obedience,
an armor fitted since childhood,
showcasing to the world their efforts.
For my children,
the heaviest mask of all—
painted with disciplined example,
woven with warm patience,
a mosaic of unconditional love.
Among friends,
I wear humor—my most popular mask,
highly demanded,
like a jester spinning witty tales to amuse the crowd,
a bright light beams through a kaleidoscope,
scattering laughter across every face.
This favored mask serves me well;
but I shed it when alone.
If you peel off these masks,
layer by layer,
you’ll find my bare face at last.
My eyes: mirrors of my heart,
a clear, silent lake…
See me.
Unbound, unguarded, unmasked—the real me.
Cleansed by the rain of purity,
I rediscover my forgotten contours
distorted by layers of duty.
For my husband,
I hide behind the thinnest mask—
a dissolving mist,
still he filters what he wishes to see,
like a lens zooming in on a single detail,
blind to the truth beneath my transparent disguise.
My masks exhaust me;
like heavy chains, they weigh me down.
Yet, the ludicrous carnival endures—
A hollow parade of fleeting extravagances:
temporary delights and shallow possessions—soon forgotten.
Each costumed soul quietly yearns for rescue,
rebelling against the imposed pretenses—
all longing for gentle affection: to be seen and loved.
So, I ask you this:
What mask shall I wear for you, Monsieur?
Or dare to meet me unmasked,
heart open, soul bare?
If you’ve read this far,
you’ve glimpsed beyond my masks.
Would you come closer,
strip off yours—
eye-to-eye,
no veils between us?
Behind the ramparts of this masquerade,
I stand—will you rise to find me?
© 2024 WolverineLily🌹
Author’s Note:
This poem has been on my mind for a long time. It reflects the roles we play in life—often without even realizing it. We wear masks to please others, feeding their endless demands, and in doing so, we lose ourselves. We don’t just project a false image—we surrender fragments of our identity, becoming puppets bound by the strings of others’ expectations.
From childhood, we’re trained to follow directions and meet society’s expectations, as though we must live for someone else, constantly under the lens of judgment. This disconnect creates a lack of authentic connections, yet the yearning for genuine affection stays in our hearts.
Another layer of this poem explores the tendency to seek validation through material possessions. Many hide behind fancy items and designer labels, projecting an illusion of worth. Beneath the surface, these illusions often overshadow one’s true value. Like hollow mannequins draped in overpriced clothes, they project their worth through price tags.
We’ve all worn masks at some point to fit in—it’s part of being human. Nevertheless, I think that everyone has something authentic to offer, but not everyone is willing to believe in it and embrace their uniqueness.
I have no intention of changing who I am for others, but I’ve learned to adjust my behavior when necessary—like it or not.
When does the masquerade end? Perhaps it ends when we cut the strings and dare to stand unmasked—naked, trembling in the panic of inconvenient reality, yet finally free!
Life is too short to dance to someone else’s tune!
Finally, it was my birthday last week. Birthdays have a way of sparking reflection, don’t they? This one felt particularly powerful for me. Like a wake-up call, it urged me to think deeply about the kind of life I truly want to live—and the masks I must drop. 🎭
Wolverine Lily 