Is it better to be ignored for who I’m not
than to be rejected for who I am?
So many times–paralyzed
anchored in leaden fear.
“Me” dragged beneath the surface of honesty
Smothered, choked, tired.
Fearing to repulse. Hiding personality.
Under a mask of placidity. I bore myself.
A mat-finished mask that some mistake for maturity.
No-one can reject Me, if they don’t see Me.