The failure is forming cracks.
The whispers are tearing off the paint.
The values are chipping out pieces.
But I refuse to let go of this mask.
Even if the whole thing shattered I'd still hold on to what I can
Not for some sentimental value over what I'm used to.
Not because I'm actually starting to like it
and certainly not because I refuse to take it off ever.
It's because without this mangled old mask I'm sure my face would be ripped to shreds
because when I let this thing go my face will be ripped apart by what ripped apart the mask
but this time there's no paint to protect my senses
there's no design to guard my eyes
and there will certainly be no frame to guard my flesh.
one may say "why don't you just drop the mask I'm sure you'll be perfectly fine"
I wish that would have been true but when I let this go I was right, and I let my face get scarred for it and I still do when I let it slip out of my hands.