'A Woman Behind The Mask' Poem by Linda Winchell

I too have worn my mask of sorts
It's now resting on the post, of my small bed.
My mirror reveals its surprise,
That lay under, the mask now shed.

It reveals a woman whose memories hurt sometime
You can see that, amongst the lines deeply etched into her skin.
Of the lovers she's had, that broke her heart
But that's not where, her truest of story begins.

It began while she was ten or so
At the hand of her Father, so endeared.
While taking this small frame of child
Forcing now her womanhood, which later in life did fear.

How sad is her tear-filled mirror's gaze
As she remembers that day, so long ago.
It remains however hidden shielded deep
Behind a mask, that her life's misery had sowed.

Her lips now urn for a lovers tender kiss
Her body shivers, from the lack of a true loves warmth.
All now hidden behind a mask of pretend happiness
Acting out in a clown like painful remorse.

By: Linda Winchell