The Approaching Mask

I do it for others, the role I have to fill, To laugh and talk against my deeper will. To be approachable, a face of easy light, Lest they should think I harbor pride or might. I tolerate the disrespect, the cutting word, Because for some small thing, my voice must still be heard. A smile is plastered, though anger starts to rise, A bright façade to mask the fire in my eyes. When the real me starts to surface, quiet and still, They think I'm sad, or something worked ill. They don't know I'm just listening, lost within the sound, Of the voices in my head, where truth is often found. I wonder what they'd think if the role play ceased, And the forced, bright actor was finally released. They'd think I'm always sad, when I would just be tired, They'd think I'm bad, with judgment sharply fired. I wish I hadn't started this deceitful art, Perhaps they would have accepted my true, quiet heart.