Charade

I dwell in a place,

A place devoid of light,

The absence thereof,

Is perpetual darkness.

Therein I hide myself,

Small, insecure, insignificant,

Where no one can see my pain,

Nor feel my sorrow.

Inside I am free to be me,

No pressure to pretend,

No obligation to deceive. 

I am happy with myself.

Darkness however...

Cannot stop the light,

Which illuminates and radiates,

Chasing shadow into corners,

To hide, recoiling in fear,

Not wanting to be judged.

In the light all is laid bare,

To scrutiny and judgement.

To be oneself is to risk ridicule,

Ostracism on a grand scale.

Thus I have learnt to walk within the light,

With darkness locked safe inside,

Where I nurture it...

Waiting for the light to fail,

So I can let it free once more,

And be true to who I am.