You
offer me the mask. No, you do not offer. You pretend to offer because I expect
you to at least pretend. I want to scream, I am no monster, my lips are too beautiful
to hide. Why should I hide the monstrosity I do not possess? But the process to
possess, to be part of you, leads me astray and I have become you. I sit, idle
for nine long minutes, starring at its blankness, only to acquiesce, no
protests, no questions. I hide under it, barely breathing, longing for the time
I can be myself again and sing.
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