Waiting For The Night To Arrive

Running towards avocations
And delusive laughs and smiles,
Towards comfort from second-strings,
Towards a shelter safe and far from my latent insecurities,
Towards a simpering mask to put on my face
And conceal my very self.

Wish I could change like weather
And stop my silent trickle,
To rainbow-ed sunshine.
Transit from roaring tempests,
To the coolness of a cloud's shade.
And be lesser like the sea,
Forever same, churning within,
Screening salty secrets of solemn sorrows,
Yet strutting a sunny face at the morning's sand.

I reach my mask and put it on but it slips, For my face is oceanly wet with a sea of salted tears.
Tears of tiredness from expectations ,
And not living up to them.
Those of others and many more mine, Tiredness from disappointed eyes of those around and away,
And those staring at me
From behind the mirror.
And my mask slips again,
Exposing the redness of the black in me, Waiting for the night to arrive
And lend hope to breathe again
In a world of suffocating strangles.