Self-portrait

My mind a mess.
My smile amiss.
A bundle of knots.
the thoughts I hide.

Like the treacherous sea:
Calm in the outside,
violent currents
raging inside.

A face pure plastic,
rebounds all life.
No grief or joy,
my eyes will cloud.

My scars may be deep,
but less than of others.
Then why so vigilant
I hurry them under?

My silence comforting
the pain of friends.
Maybe that’s why
I burden not, others.

I smile and joke,
my soul may weep,
but you’ll never know,
through subterfuge deep.

My weak hands wield
anonymity’s scythe.
They reap my words,
in a safer harvest…