Being Me
I used to wear a mask,
To hide who I was.
I was afraid,
Of what people would say.
When I spoke, when I smiled.
I designed the mask,
To protect myself.
To hide.
My sense of humour,
My loves and,
My hates.
The mask was an aid indeed.
To help my life progress,
In ways, which I could not have imagined.
With the mask,
I was smiling, laughing,
“Being me.”
One day I realised,
That I did not need, to wear the mask.
If I was liked, for who I pretended to be,
I would rather not be.
Liked at all.
By Cillian Cotter