MY SENTIMENTAL PAGE
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a thousand masks that I am afraid
to take off and none of them are me.
Prentending is an art that's second nature with
me, but don't be fooled, for God sake, don't be fooled.
I give the impression that I am scure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness is my
game;
that the waters are calm and I am in command.
But don't beleve me, please.
My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my
mask,
'Neath this lies no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear,
and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear
of being exposed.
That is why I frantically create a mask to hide
behind;
a nonchalant, sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance
that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only salvation. And I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance, if
it is followed by love.
It is the only thing that will assure me of what
I can't assure myself,
that I am worth something.
But, I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I am afraid
to.
I am afraid your glance will not be followed
by acceptance and love.
I am afraid you will think less of me, that you
will laugh at me,
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate game,
with a facade of assurance without, and a trembling
child within.
And so begins the parade of masks, and my life
becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface
talk.
I tell you everything that is really nothing,
and nothing of what is everything,
of what is crying within me;
So when I am going through my routine do not
be fooled by what I am saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what
I am not saying.
What I would like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say, but I can't
say.
I dislike hiding, Honestly!
I dislike the superficial game I am playing,
the phony game.
I would really like to be genuine and spontaneous,
and me,
but you have got to help me. You have got to
hold out your hand,
even when that is the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes that blank
stare of breathing death.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you try to understand and because you
really care,
my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings,
very feeble wings, but wings.
With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your
power of understanding,
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be the creator of the person that
is me if you choose to.
Please choose to. You alone can break down the
wall
behind which I tremble, you alone can remove
my mask.
You alone can release me from my shadow world
of panic and uncertainty;
From my lonely person.
Do not pass me by.
Please... do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you;
a long conviction of worthlessness builds strong
walls.
The nearer you approach me, the blinder I strike
back.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that
love is stronger than walls, and in this lies
my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls with firm
hands,
but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know
very well.
For I am every man you meet and I am every woman
you meet.
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