Mask

I wear a mask of glass...

Every time when you look at me
What you believe who I am
Is not the person I am
You will probably never know me...

I can deceive the eye, everyone
And everything except for my heart

I wear a mask of glass...

All the time, day in and day out
I am just a character to play as I go about
I wear a million masks, but none of them is I
My true self is marked out

I can deceive the eye, everyone
And everything except for my heart

I wear a mask of glass...

What has become of me?
A stranger is all that I see...
Why am I so lost inside?
Is that what is to forever be

Will they ever accept me for who I am?
And not turn down my shattered heart?

I wear a mask of glass...

Here I am now in a world...
Where my ways are not allowed
And my heart... Is imprisoned
But someday... I will be free, somehow

Will they ever accept me for who I am?
And not turn down my shattered heart?

I wear a mask of glass...

What has become of me?
A stranger is all that I see...
Why is what I see is someone I do not know?
What can unlock my true self- what is the key?

Will I ever free my locked up soul
And my caged up heart?

I wear a mask of glass...

Will I forever practice the art of illusion?
Why I do this, it is my biggest confusion
Will I be some one else for all time?
Finding a way to be myself is now my only resolution

Will I ever free my locked up soul
And my caged up heart?

I wear a mask of glass...

Why can we not be ourselves and simply reveal?
Every thought and all the things that we truly feel
Must there always be a hidden, always be a secret me
That will forever be concealed?

Some day my heart will be free
And I will be loved for what is in my heart

I wear a mask of glass...

I do not want to be forced to hide
I will not pretend and I will not lie
One day, some how I will not be concealed And show whom I am inside

Some day my heart will be free
And I will be loved for what is in my heart

I will escape from this mask of glass.



Because once, my face was stuck in a physical mask that no one could see. My facial muscles became to used to always being tense. My brow was used to being furrowed and my lips in a straight line. I was told once by a nice girl that I always looked worried or troubled. I was.

Back then... my muscles no longer had memory to enable them to smile. I always held back my tears. It is sad when you are unable to smile or cry. It is miserable, really.