My Last Mask - My first attempt at poetry

It's been a while since I entered the ballroom And I wasn't told it was a masque, People filled with zeal and pomp but alas, What they wore was for the heart, a casque.

I walked around the hall multiple guises to pick Masks a plenty, A color for every one, I came across a lady whose mask i fancied, "This would make a fine fit" and I was done.

The first was of my own choosing It wasn't loved by all, I began searching for more people in the hall, Came across another mask they loved.

But quickly they got bored of it. So a third time, on the two layers i put on one more Each mask making me unsure, Unsure of What I was before.

Layers upon layers built up over time. I had lost a piece of myself that was truly mine, it was all well and I supposed surely this time I had found a Mask that everyone adored!

But soon I found out, My outfit might be ill recieved. I worked and toiled hours upon hours Until my robes pleased me.

I now was at the juncture where I had it all, A mask, a handsome robe and now it was time. Time to find a partner to dance in the ball, A partner I could introduce as mine.

I had found others before but i thought, I didn't have my robes and mask, This time would be different, Wooing them won't be a herculean task!

I had donned at least my 3rd mask! My new robe! Bright and starched! But I had no way of knowing if she would like them, My throat was once again parched.

I found the same person that had worn the first mask, He was laughing at me for thinking it so easy a task, He roared and I was hudled into the corner. Wondering if this effort was for myself or a stranger.

It is after dark now, The ball is as was And such is it's future as well. What was will be for the ball But what about us?

Which one of us survives a critical question stands. I suggest improve my robe use better silken strands. For the robe was a wish we shared in common. What;of the masks? Put 'em back where we got them?

I not us now, will decide, and i say we keep it. We keep it all. The good and the bad. For the choice of masks was mine and It shall no longer make me sad.

The passionate reds and the hopeful yellows, The impulsive orange and the blues - mellow. Even the envious greens and purples of fantasy, I suppose all of these are a part us - now me.

For The girl in the ball I need another, She can't be mine with just the purple color. That was the last mask perhaps I was lacking. A brash and brave mask to do away with dolour.

And so this will be my last mask. It is time to stop thinking about appearances, But one last task, A promise - to act irrespective of grievances.

• SR , Nov 6th '22

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