The mask I wear,
From my childhood.
Daddy hitting Mummy
Mummy shutting him out
In the cold rain
I turned the other way,
This is not my life.
A mask!

My relatives ashamed
That I’m one of them
Just because my family
Is not farmiliar with any classroom.
I turned the other way,
This is not my dream.
A mask!

My youthful beloved
Who cheated me off my ruby,
My precious jewel.
Leaving me for another
Without a home.
Just outside alone.
With my sickly child
I turned the other way,
This is not my life.
A mask!

An adult now heading to old age
With no roots.
Roots to secure me.
From lifes tornadoes.
From the flooding waters
I shed each day.

See, I’ve no roots
Not that I’ve never had any.
But, life taught me
How to put on a mask.
To belong, to be loved
And cared for.
To have a name
Befitting the dreams I once had.

My roots, changed
For the masks I have.
Thats batter trade with life
Life that happens to me.

Still even now,
I turn look the other way,
This is not my life.
This is not my dream.
Another mask!

© sarah nabwire (Her Work)