The Mask

The Mask

Creeps slowly

Like plaster

Filling every means of gesture


Despite stirrings inside

Struggling to break the guise

And show such things as surprise


Neither showing a grimace or a grin

Unable to show the feelings within

Sad, am I?

No way of telling

Because as I’ve been explaining

I can feel and relate

But now it’s my fate

For my emotions to be hidden

Facial expression forbidden

Blotted out by the mask

3 Replies

  • Wow!

  • wonderful poem; and so appropriate...I recently attended a family function and one of the younger adults asked if I was OK; I looked depressed or upset...I realized I need to somehow find a time to address the family members and let them know that my lack of emotional signings with my face is a symptom of my disease progressing, not that I am bored or inattentive. My husband feels sometimes I am not paying attention to him when he talks about something important...and its untrue, I just can't emulate the expressions as I did of old. In fact without the families comments I would not have noticed the changes that apparently are occurring. Saddest part is that all the smiles and joy are still here inside...just trapped behind lessening movements.

  • Amazing poem. My Dad has PD, and I could have written this about him. Thank you for this.

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