Here is a poem one of my clients wrote about her life. I feel it is a great description of how we all wear masks.

The Clown

He lives only for the joy of others
Gives until his heart is empty
Filled only by the love he creates.

Who is the Clown?

When the make up is wiped away:
Timid, scared, alone
Exposed to the world: vulnerable
Secure and confident under his protective paint
The joyful mask is created
With each brush the world becomes less and less real: obscure
Until the world is a playground
Created by him
Controlled by him
but not for him
He is the player: the worker
With himself hidden inside.

MK