We say, “That's just who I am.” But does that “I” sound the same with different people around? With some, we're free to speak our minds. With others, words are hard to find. At times, we lead and set the pace; At times, we want a quiet place. Not every mask is there to lie. A role, a mood, the where and why. Behind a mask, we sometimes hide; Sometimes, we let someone inside. We wear our masks from day to day, And part of us lives in each face. But who is left when none are there? How many living faces do we wear? There's much in us we cannot name, And much we still have yet to know. There's life inside we can't explain, Though it's already begun to grow. Something can trouble or unite us, And still be nameless here inside us. How do we put ourselves in words When who we are is still a blur? We wear our masks from day to day, And part of us lives in each face. But who is left when none are there? How many living faces do we wear? Sometimes a mask is out of place; The world can't recognize our face. The same old gestures, same old lines, But different answers come this time. We try to shield ourselves from pain, But those we love can feel the strain. Where we'd have never made a sound, Someone might recognize us now. We grow so used to roles we play, And others' hopes along the way. And every version feels like “me.” So what, exactly, is the real “me”? Which parts did we choose on our own? Which did we pick up back at home? What does the world expect to find? What holds it all together inside? It's not the dates that make us change, But who we meet, a choice, some pain. Events reshape the world we know And leave their traces as we go. As life shifts, so does what we do, With fears and hopes we never knew. And masks we never knew before Become our own, though never asked for. Maybe “I” is no portrait on display, But motion carrying us on our way. Maybe “I” is the path we trace Through all the years, through every face. We wear our masks from day to day, And part of us lives in each face. But who is left when none are there? How many living faces do we wear? Who are we without our masks? Who are we behind them? We change them… Or do they change us?
