PLeasE hEar what I'm nOT saYinG

By Charles Finn

Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear,
for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks.
Masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them are me.


Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression I'm secure, within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that i need no-one,
but don't believe me. Please.


My surface may, seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,
my ever-varying and ever concealing mask.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear,
in aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anyone to know it.


I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant, sophisticated facade, to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation. And I know it.


That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me, from myself,
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.


But I don't tell you this, I don't dare. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh,
and your laugh would kill me.


I'm afraid that deep down I'm nothing, that I'm no good,
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facede of assurance without, and a trembling child whithin.
And so begins that parade of masks. And my life becomes a front.