I dread the day you learn of my true self.
Layer after Layer of my armor, having
gotten worn down.
What else leaves me laid bear?
Oh! yes I got it.
.
The weight lifted over my shoulders,
over the course of time.
The masks I wear lost.
(And not the lost that can be found,
No! This is the lost that remains unfound.)
After all this I ask,
What else leaves me laid bear?
Oh! now I've got it.
.
The Half-truths and lies I live
with clouding me, shielding me.
Only then would my armor
worn down.
So now I ask,
do you like myself laid bear?
Don't reply, I dread it.