I'm proud of my worshipful tribal mask
delicately painted and carved from the wood of trees
I hand-picked for the feel of their
unforgiving bark and smooth interiors
these trees are like me, but right-side-in
my fragile insides, bouncing and bashing against
my rough places that the world can't handle
but, you see, my tribal mask has a few functional flaws like
when people who love me want to see my battered face
they see the smooth, sanded smiles
and cut their earnest fingers trying to see
what I don't want to show them
I can't decide if I'm too ashamed or raw
to open up my fortifications
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