Dedication:
Yes, this poem has a dedication. To all those people who feel that they wear a mask, it may be hard to take it off; I know it sure was for me. But, you know what, write a poem. Show it to your friends and/or family. If it really feels like you're depressed, make sure that they know that it is not a phase! Teen suicide is one of the leading causes in death. Most of these cases are people who suffered from teen depression, but don't know it. If you feel that you are lost, call a teen help hotline. I mean it, because to me, you all matter. Every single one of you. Never forget that, people, you matterYou have a place in this world. If you were born, you were meant to be here, or else you would have died by now. Listen to a survivor, and take your Mask off. It may sound hard, but once you start, it's easier. And, believe it or not, the True You really can be happy in this Hell hole they call Earth.
Just look at the things you are blessed with. Family, friends, and other things. Don't give up just because it doesn't look like anyone cares, because they do. Thanks, and learn from my experience. They care.
Remember! If you want to contact me for any reason, drop me a review (or an e-mail at lieh(UNDERSCORE)whiterider(AT)hotmail(DOT)com), and I'll be sure to get back to you ASAP. (Done it twice now—so you know it'll happen IF YOU WANT IT TO!)

My Mask
Nachzes-Black Rider

I have a Mask.
Behind the Mask I can hide many things.
My anger.
My hurt.
My sorrow.
My pain.

The Mask is always cheerful.
Always smiling.
So that,
if my friends turn around, they won't see me.
Not the real me.

The Mask is my Friend.
A Companion
A Brother
It is the Lie that lives for me.

If any of my friends knew of the Mask,
it would go.
But they don't.
And...it doesn't

The teasing and taunts bounce off of me.
My emotions,
Hurt and Pain,
hidden behind the Mask.

The real me is scared.
So scared...
Scared to Love.
Scared to Be Loved.
Scared to breathe,
to Live.

People think that I'm always laughing,
like the Mask.
I'm not.

I'm dying inside.
Going under
another wave of Pain.
Of Anger.
Of Remorse.

I'm drowning,
and no one notices.
I'm dying again,
and no one cares.

And it hurts.

Does anyone really know the True Me?
I doubt it.
They only know the Mask.

And meanwhile,
while they laugh,
and joke,
and play with the Mask,
I'm dying.

Dying.
Again.

I cry out!
"Somebody save me!"
I stretch out my arms,
pleading,
imploring.
I drop to my knees,
exhausted,
and spent.
Too weary to go on.

I scream for someone to save me.
But no one does.
The Mask laughs louder.
Gestures wilder.
Acts stranger.
Does anyone notice that those smiles never reach my eyes?

They are empty.
Lost.
Soulless.

I scream again,
but no one comes.
The desperate cries tear at my throat,
but no one can hear me.

I scrabble for footing,
but before I can find it,
the wave of anguish crashes into me.

I struggle,
at first.
But it is futile.
I've hidden behind the Mask for far too long.

And now my emotions slowly kill me.
And I accept that.
And I stop.

'Farewell, my friends,' I think.
What was once my Solitude,
my Safety,
my Mask,
Is now my Prison,
my Death,
my Suicide.

And so I drown,
in my own self-made ocean.
I die,
inside.

And all the while that Mask is laughing,
joking,
until I breathe my last.

And now,
at last,
at long last,
I'm Free.

End