Mardi Gras

Mardi Gras,
a time to pretend,
a time to have fun
being another,
impersonating another.
I don't feel like impersonating,
I don't want to pretend,
No mask can hide what I am,
What I feel...
I don't need a mask
to be a monster,
I don't need a mask
to pretend that I'm sad;
I already am sad,
Lethargy strikes me everyday,
Not every hour,
Not every minute,
But it strikes,
and when it does
it hurts like hell.
My soul is broken,
there are pieces missing,
and I can't pretend to be complete,
'cause I'm not.
I try to put a happy face
so that nobody knows what's going on inside,
what's going on behind the mask.
I know that sometimes
it looks like I'm pretending,
like some kind of daily Mardi Gras,
but I'm not,
It looks fake,
because it's uncommon,
but my only mask
is the one I have to wear right now,
a mask of happyness,

to cover up my face
marked by sadness,
lethargy, pain,
incompleteness of the being.
To me,
Mardi Gras is just another day
wearing the mask,
only this time
everyone is wearing one too
but, if we think strait,
isn't that what everyone does?