These masks that I carry with myself
And put on when the situation demands.
The happy one, the serious one, the sad one
The one with energy, the one that's grim.

So accustomed to juggling these masks
That what lies underneath has been forgotten.
The dreams of my blithe self from the past
Now looks like a distant memory.

Maybe somewhere out there lies redemption
Maybe I need to be brave and break free.
Or maybe I need to learn to juggle these masks
Each a vestige of a time that's shaped me.