The Mask

For whom do I wear this mask:
To hide myself from you,
Or it hide myself from me?
Peering out through tiny slits
Only allows for narrow views
And somehow it is more comforting
To pretend that all I see
Is all there is.

I feel safer knowing that what you see
Is not what you get, and yet
I somehow get upset when what I get
Is not what I see.

My hand hesitates at the thought
Of pulling this off and revealing
All the pain and shame beneath
And I see your hand trembling
At the very same thought.

So I pull off one mask
To reveal another beneath.