Alarm Sentiment while Mind is comatose.
Heart thrashes out, embittered,
What Mind would hold at bay.
Should I rid myself of the Eyes-
Those Eyes that so easily betray
The weakness I would have no one see?
This Mouth that speaks so resentfully
Speaks with assurance
That it well embodies the Heart.
This "placid" face contorts in affliction,
Unrecognizable in comparison
To the life and glow the Eyes once held.
Should I trade my Heart for heavy stone
And contract myself to a future of stoning
The tissue hearts of those I meet?
I did not buy a mask-
Masks drop too easily.
I bought a stage role
And paid for it with my autonomy.