new poem...

10 Tiny Masks


My nails cry out, from under their polish,
They suffocate, they say,
Awful things to me.
All ten of them, scream out in hysteria,

You see they are Closterphobic.

Rejection of their heavy glossy paint,
They hate their new face,
This new merlot, deep almost black,
My nails whisper, “It is a lie.”
They weep and wallow,
Wishing they were wiped clean,
They wonder why they must also wear a mask,

They ask me why,
Begging over and over for an answer,

But I cannot give them one,
I cannot tell them the truth.
I mustn’t tell them, that they are,
“Inadequate?” they question,
Because they are a part of me,
They hear my thoughts

They laugh at me,
Calling out,

“You silly girl,
Always painting your face,
Playing pretty like a child,
Run, then rage, then reconcile… Oh you little girl,
You silly infant cannot even tell yourself the truth!
Cannot even tell yourself the truth!”

“YOU are INADEQUATE!”

Their words jeering in my ears,
I feel their cackling taunts and I rip at their veneers,
So as to shut them up their evil voices,
These ten little demons,
I will drown their voices,
And they will lose their new faces.

by vanessa toews