A thousand masks - part 1

When growing up I was told to be strong, I learned to never admit when I was wrong. Don't show yourself weak, even though all you are is mess in a heap. The older I grew the masks changed too, but always showing strength, even though I used to cry every day at length, getting rid of my life in some attempts. But my heart was never really in it, so I kept growing, the masks never showing, learning about life, about the world, and even more. the masks on my face made it sore. As a teen, where binge drinking was the new cuisine. Sometimes the masks would slip, and the words like vomit on my lips, tighter to the mask I grip. Trying to find love wherever I could, probably too desperate want more than I should, fleeing to one person then to another, escaping the abuse from my mother. The masks I now wore were many, I would change them plenty, but a sadness overcame me, caged me unfree. I met a man who seemed sweeter than nectar, I thought he was my protector, the masks came and went and I let him in, playing a game I didn't know he'd win. Beaten and bruised he kept hitting, punched me until blood I was spitting, on top of me with hands on my mouth and nose, I kicked him in his nuts but it was all too close,