Not wanting to be known to others,
sometimes we choose to be anonymous.
Stripped of our identity by others,
we’re rendered at times anonymous.
At times , life’s pressures are too great
we can’t bear identify with the pain
life creates within us, and
we slip into anonymity.
Sometimes we remain behind our masks-
they are all we know
we cannot escape them.
Then there are times, when
without provocation,
we wake up one morning,
no longer liking who or what we are,
and enter the world nameless and faceless.
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Poetic Alchemist 
So often we carry our pack of attachments to this world, so heavy that we can not even get off the ground. Some morning, we get up and forget to don the pack. Freedom, glorious freedom to become who we really are.
Loved this poem
…Z
Thanks Aurora. Your point is well taken.
No writer can ever truly be anonymous. Well done, Don!
Thanks Handyman Dan. Been wondering about you…
Good one!
Thanks!
Love,
Handyman Dan
Famtz…Thanks for stopping by. Stay and read as long as you like. I dropped by your blog. Really good poetry.
Thanks Rob. Hoping you are well. I don’t see you so often around here.
this is also very insightful. I think I will stay awhile and read some of your pieces.
I am amazed at the wide range of subjects you write about.
Rax, thanks. It is INDEED experience based. Best to you!
a good observation. and insight from experience. wonderful piece
Polona, thanks and I also agree with Floots.
anything to escape from ourselves?
well said
i like floots’ comment, btw
How funny Floots. Thanks.
when i took my curmudgeonly hermit mask off
there was a real one underneath
(but i kinda like him) 🙂
there’s a lot of truth here don
i just felt i should put in a word for we misanthropic types