Behind the Mask

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behind the maskMundane misty morning mark the day ahead,

As I breath in half life to purpose, exhaling drive,

Hands grasp at hope, for it to vanish like phantoms,

The bleach out sun obscures visions of substance,

Time to withdraw to the solitude of self,

Wrapped up in warm woollen wishes,

Memories dance to melodic tunes of distant dreams of brighter times,

If only time could be suspended the pain would abate,

But no master am I, just a slave to the malady,

So the mask goes on and the false self takes over,

With eyes that sparkle and face that shines never showing the visage behind,

About Mr BPD

About Author. I have Borderline Personality Disorder and as a writer and poet I explore my madness through the creative arts. I have a personal belief that even in darkness light exists and it is a personal responsibility to always seek the light and I find the light in creating something.
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