My old skin

The side you saw of me
still exists, but not for much longer
It's the side that's withered;
a part that shrivels and dies
It is my old name
The familiar aspect
that breeds contempt

It was always a mask
Its functionality served you well in former times
The barrier that broke the barrier
It's where you found keen interest
Yet there is more to me

Under this salak surface of my tail--
if you had cared to explore--
is a brand new flesh
It leads to my true face,
Where the glory is

I'm sorry you settled for the scraps under my table
You were always welcome to the main course

You never asked

I dropped clues that there is better,
but you kept saying you were satisfied and full

Perhaps its time you saw your own mask for what it is?
Perhaps my rotting tail was just your mirror all along?