The authentic me lies hidden,
While the palatable me is on display,
A stand-offish, grumpy, prickly personality,
These are shields, masks, an odd armour of sorts,
It’s all fake, a ruse, a folly designed to trick,
The real me is too fragile, the real me I protect,
With tools of manipulation, I deceive to survive,
Not to survive you, but to survive a day as me,
Just enough so that I can get up again tomorrow,
The ruse has become permanent, now a fused mask,
It conceals the real me from all, lately, even myself,
But it is a mask I must continue to wear,
For I loathed me, long before it became fashionable.
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Dan Verkys 