I cover my face before stepping outside,
And don’t say a word, so my voice won’t be pried.
I try to blend in, and pray they can’t tell
– As if I’m a thief who escaped from her cell.
My old mask was blue.
    I’m glad that it fell.
My new mask is pink.
    I still need to hide.

From closet to stealth
Does no good to your health.
For people like me, this country looks bleak;
If others could see, they’d just see a freak.
My new mask is pink.
    It does make me think.
My old mask was blue.
    What else could I do?

One day they won’t tell just by looking at me,
But that doesn’t mean that I’m finally free.
My new mask will then be etched to my face:
They’ll give me a past that never took place.
My old mask was blue.
    A terrible guise.
My new mask is pink.
    The mask is in their eyes.

– Lady Scarecrow

  • lady_scarecrow (she/her)@lemmy.blahaj.zoneOPEnglish
    26·
    1 month ago

    This is the last poem I wanted to share here.

    I’d like to thank you all for reading, and I sincerely appreciate all of your kind comments. I’m glad to know my poems resonated with so many people – that’s why I wanted to share them here, in the first place.

    The only thing I still have to share is a short novel I wrote, that I mentioned in an earlier comment, but it’s still being reviewed. Who knows how long it will take. And of course, I know I’ll keep writing – but inspiration is fickle and hard to come by. I may come back with something else in the future.

    Thanks again!