Which Is Me? | Teen Ink

Which Is Me?

March 7, 2011
By alexus_sb BRONZE, Indianapolis, Indiana
alexus_sb BRONZE, Indianapolis, Indiana
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.<br /> ~ Robert Frost ~


Some call it two-faced,
Some call it lying.
For some it's harder to do,
yet some can do it without trying.
We have one for every group of people that we see,
so why is it that writing about faces is so hard for me?
There are two different kinds of faces,
one we show to the word,
and one we don't.
Public is the one for me that takes the most effort,
yet when I look around,
it seems that everyone does it so naturally.
I have one for my family,
that I hide from my friends.
I throw tantrums when I don't get my way,
or go crazy when we are having fun cooking in the kitchen,
or playing a board game.
I say who cares? Everyone has one,
but I feel like if they knew, my life would come to an end.
I ask myself every day,
Why is this so hard to do?
Yet as soon as I start to feel comfortable,
and my real self starts to show,
another mask is forced upon my face,
and my real self, my real face is forced to hide.
It's the same with teachers,
my friends and family aren't the only ones.
I feel the need to be that one perfect student that every teacher loves,
but I know I can't,
so I settle for the mask of the student who tries their hardest no matter what.
But when I am alone, all the masks are off.
And it's just me.
I listen to music that my friends hate, but I secretly love,
and watch those corny movies that I know every word to.
Those same movies that I told my friends I would never watch in a million years.
I also take the time to think about who I really am.
And why I can't be that same person around everyone else I know.
I say "Am I the only person in the world with this problem?"
But I answer myself, with yet another question:
This person that I am, when I'm alone:
Is this the real me? Or just another mask that I put on?


The author's comments:
This poem is about being yourself, and how it can be way harder than it looks.

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