Austin Price, Editor in Chief
Every day is the same
My eyes are tired
My face is long
My lips are pursed
Staring into the mirror
This face simply won’t do
I need to change it
Change is hard
That’s asking to much
Instead of a change
I need a cover
This cover is meant to help
Not to hurt
It’s meant to lessen my load
My fingers grasp slippery ribbons
Edges frayed from wear and tear
I pull the ribbons tight and the pink silk tangles in my hair
Leaving a future not to undo
My cover is secure
The plaster mask presses into my face.
Leaving my pale skin, small splotches of red
The mask is royally purple
And glittering gold
It presents an air of elegance and dignity
With the mask securely on my face
I can walk into the sun
The mask is a sort of translator
It makes my words wiser, my eyes brighter, and my body stronger
This mask presents the best and only the best
It turns a scowl to a smile
A grimace to a grin
Like an eternal optimist
This mask sees the best
But what does it see when the best isn’t there?
It sees nothing
So it creates something
It creates something great
It creates something pretty
It creates something perfect
It puts this great, pretty, perfect thing out front
So it’s the first thing people see
So it’s the only thing people see
The mask does its job when it hides what’s underneath
When I finally take the mask off, an outline stains my skin
Leaving a mark of the role I forced myself to play.
The mark will fade, but sooner later, the mask will return and the scars will stay