the mask

the comfort I had no longer fits

every iteration of myself exhausted

these days I am squirming and

yelling out to my former self,

punishing them for not sooner realizing

how wrong it felt to exist

the mask will crumble and reform

fit for a new face when I forget

it covers every orifice and

suffocates my hatred

a new flame brews behind my eyes

but only burns them, for I

can’t seem to contain the malice

outward completely.

the comfort I had is gone

every iteration of myself has given up.