Maturity (For option number 4)

I have a mask I've made for every occasion,
carefully organized after years of practice to fit each situation,
a comedian's face for acting happy during times
when life gets stupid and you want to scream,
and the one I wear too look mature
when I need to apply for a loan or other adult chores
that will hides the child inside,
which I let out to run when nobody is looking.

Used to worry the mirror having a way
to expose my acting before others,
but it is so great how the tongue can explain
all those times when you can stop wanting to still be ten.

Youth, I've learned, is the place in your head
where you treat life as a play land,
putting up with all the headaches of age,
secretly smiling beneath whatever disguise is required,
while imagining that desk a work where I slave in my troll costume
is really a seat on a thrill park ride,
doing my best to not yell too loud enough while thinking of the fun
so it might be heard by the boss.