Masks

The one who laughs a lot is not me. The one who is always serious is not me. Then who am I? The quiet girl in the dark corner, tears catching in snot, shoulders raised, watching, waiting. I have worn masks for so long I no longer know which face is truly mine. When I ask myself, Which one are you? I wish I could say the sleeping me. But even in sleep, I startle at the slightest noise, ever alert, ever watching. ©Shalom Lights