Masked Again

"Whenever someone acts one way in public, it'll turn out they have an opposite side. The quietest person will have the worst temper. The happiest person will suffer the worst depressions. The best thing about a person is the worst thing."
-Ethan Black

~~~

Another sleepless night again
I stare at the ceiling and I spy
the thoughts that keep me up just now,
the questions that burn behind my eyes.

Eyes sting as I turn on the light again...
I've never really been one to fight.
But in the despair that I've tried to hide,
I search for my pencil... I have to write.

Another evening spent again,
wondering if they have a decent excuse
for their idiotic, ignorant guesses.
Their fears prompting them to abuse.

Ears ring as I sit at my desk again -
The ink in my words like the blood in my veins.
I can't imagine what they think they're doing,
Having tortured me with their horrific games.

I write by the screen of my Gameboy again,
if I kept on the lamp they'd become irritable.
"Turn out that switch, you need your rest!"
How can I when my questions disable?

Another sky lost in thought again.
My family all know it, and some of my friends.
But I worry what they surmise under the surface,
what they really think in the very end.

The stars have knowing smiles again,
"She thinks too much, now, what the twit!"
They tisk and turn away like the others,
Not bothering to further examine it.

How these hands are shaking again,
With the depression of a glower closing in.
The daughter misunderstood by the many,
who say her mother is in sin.

And how I tremble with protest again!
For no one can honestly say they know.
That a lesbian involved with the clergy
is a truthful person, not a show.

Look as they gather in gossip again.
Look as they wrongly discuss my fate.
Look as they guess that they know their words,
Failing to see how they swarm with hate.

See as they speak in those cliques again...
Those who claim knowledge: the most unknowing.
Take a second look at your Bible yourself,
See on your OWN what the others aren't showing.

Observe how I sit by myself again.
Masked in happiness and an artificial grin.
Maybe you'll keep your mind open for once,
and see what tears have stained me within.

Imagine a girl in the dark again,
hunched over scrap paper with a story to tell.
I wonder if they'll judge her as they did the others?
Maybe they'll hurt her as well.