My Mask

Smiling bright, without a care,

I always wear this disguise;

a veneer of carefree ease.

No one sees through all my lies.

Showing only a mirror,

I ignore all of my fears;

if you could see my true face,

you could trace the tracks of tears.

All my friend are quite impressed;

none have guessed the hurt inside

that leaves me crying at night.

Out of sight, I weep and hide.

Broken and alone inside,

I have to swallow my pain;

there’s just no way to prevent

screaming silently again.

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NOTE: This is an old Welsh poetry form, the Awdl Gywydd (ow-dul gow-id). It is syllabic, as opposed to metric, but with it's interlocking rhyme scheme, it is a lot of fun to craft.