I Am What I Make Up AKA Day Eleven

All of us are wearing masks
Constructed facades intended to
Present ourselves to others
Not as who we know we are, but
As the people we think we ought to be.
We create a mold and 
Pour ourselves into it, inhabiting all the grooves,
Hoping we can just fit in and gel,
Keep our skins from crumbling and 
Revealing the gooey ugliness underneath.
Some manage better than others
Those who are blessed with more
Emotional pectin will hold their
Shapes with ease, they will
Wobble and jiggle with the bumps of daily life, without
Fear of liquefaction, no risk of 
Revelation, their structures are so solid. The
Rest of us must be vigilant for our internal 
Selves never quite manage to grow hard, we must brace for
Potential missteps which may turn us into
Puddles of our pretenses, forcing us to start again.


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