I am a girl raised to know better than to give people front row tickets to my inner monologues 
I had years of lectures about filtering my thoughts 
I wasn't to let anyone be privy to my  unmade decisions 
Growing up, i was taught to be poised, strong and perfect 
And if I wasn't, to look it.
I wasn't. So I looked it.
I am the underdog of every story 
The butt of every joke 
The punchline to your humorous jabs 
And a punch bag to your literal ones 

I am a poet that writes about authenticity  under a pen name 
The poster child of cowardice 
A writer that uses pseudo names to hide who I really am
A preacher that sins 
 I am an artist scared of signing my real name to my art
In fear of rejection I have been taught to expect from everyone 
A craftsman scared of attaching my true self to my handiwork out of fear of  an improbable failure 

You see, 
Growing up I was told to expect the worst from everybody. Even myself.
Growing up,  I was taught my worth equated the applause my acting invoked 
When I asked why I had to to follow the manuscript  in the first place 
They sat me down and told me
"Dear child, because perception trumps reality"

That was the day I started making my masks
Using threads woven from the core of societal propriety and a needle forged in the depths of feminine etiquette 
I call myself an "anagrammed mess" nowadays 
Because I have arranged and rearranged my self more times than is advisable 
I have reduced myself to being a bag full of  jumbled pieces of the alphabet that I have to super glue together to create the illusion of being intact 

I am a girl trying to make it in a world where I am supposed to practice the opposite of what I preach 
I am a daughter trying  to live up to standards set and perfected by generations of mothers before me
I am a woman expected to teach my future daughter how make masks she will have to hide behind so she can in turn bestow the art of pretence unto her own daughter when the time comes 

I was a child that didn't know why mommy went from Mrs.Perfect to crying into her fifth glass of wine when no one was around
I was a girl that just nodded along when they kept telling me to say "yes, sorry" instead of "yes, but..."
I grew up smack in the middle of it all, yes...
But i will be the woman that breaks the cycle

I will break generations and generations worth of toxic tradition where the women were told to implode and liquefy their insides than explode and risk impaling  their men with the jagged pieces of their broken selves 
I will be the woman that shows her  baby how to sign her own name when finishing a poem 
I will reverse engineer my anagrammed mess of a pen name and get rid of all my masks 
yours truly,Martha
© Ma-cal