The Mask I Wear

The mask I wear is so vibrant and beautiful.
The foundation is fragile, delicate and white.
The surface is painted with elaborate swirls.
Unseen at the base is a crack beneath the paint.
It gets bigger and bigger, a bit at a time
until the pressure builds up and then the mask breaks.
The mask once so beautiful now lies in pieces;
scattered and shattered lay white and painted fragments.
Slowly and carefully I put it together,
seal up the fractures and paint over the surface.
Reinforced with a coat, but never again whole;
yet I put it back on because it is my mask.