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The masks I donned over the years all turn back to eat me now
The happy ones— showing off genuine happiness —and the bright ones— showing prowess in knowledge and skill— all of them come back to swallow me whole
What changed? What could I possibly have done for my masks to end up torn and feral?
The sad ones— showing off tears and truth unchecked— and the fearful ones —showing depressive states and deflected blames— all of them joined the past masks to eat at my soul —piece by piece by piece
