“Antoinette” or “Toni” or “Frankie”

[newtothis]

This is actually about someone I know...

Sometimes I feel the fear.
Not of anything real of course.
Nothing I can touch, taste,
Feel, see, comprehend.
It really makes little sense to anyone but myself.

I fear the knowing. The intimacy. The insight.
Why should they want to know me so, anyway?
If they truly knew me, who I was,
What I am underneath all the feigned personalities;
Traits that make me seem so untouchable, yet alluring…

I am disgusting. A byproduct of years of phantom
Desires and unfulfilled yearnings.
The child of candor and misunderstandings;
The grandchild of prejudice and lies.
What I want to be is so much better than what I am.

If I could find a nationality to claim,
Or a persona to adopt,
I know I would be happy. For I could
have the love of the joker himself,
The one I desire.

Just one lie, the color of the moon on a clear night
Would send my life soaring through the stars,
Into the mass of scintillating black dwarfs,
Secreting the light that could obliterate everything
I have worked so hard to conceal.

So until I am blasted back to Earth,
I will hide. No one has to know
About my imperfections
Concealed within my tiny shell
and my three thousand dollar bank account.

[The Personist]

This is actually about someone I know...
You don't need to tell us that. It takes away some of the interpretive work on the part of the reader.

Sometimes I feel the fear.
Not of anything real of course.
Nothing I can touch, taste,
Feel, see, comprehend.
It really makes little sense to anyone but myself.
If you can't feel it, how can you sometimes feel it? Other than that, this stanza is rather benign. You haven't done anything to make me understand that this is a fear that I truly can't comprehend. This is ostensibly telling; try showing me the fear that your narrator experiences.

I fear the knowing. The intimacy. The insight.
Why should they want to know me so, anyway?
If they truly knew me, who I was,
What I am underneath all the feigned personalities;
Traits that make me seem so untouchable, yet alluring…
Again, this is telling. You are not showing me the experiences of this narrator, and thus I am not compelled by her. Dramatic monologue or not, from personal experience or not, you can't abandon poetic form. This feels melodramatic, and doesn't have any of your usual (and welcome) plainness of language or insight. It just seems so cliched.

I am disgusting. A byproduct of years of phantom
Desires and unfulfilled yearnings.
The child of candor and misunderstandings;
The grandchild of prejudice and lies.
What I want to be is so much better than what I am.
This is a bit better. It's still telling--"I am disgusting" seems anathema to showing rather than telling--but there's some more formulated imagery here. "The child of candor" sounded really cool aloud; however, your last line felt like a mouthful.

If I could find a nationality to claim,
Or a persona to adopt,
I know I would be happy. For I could
have the love of the joker himself,
The one I desire.

I'm not sure if I like this. It still feels telling; there's no poesy entailed in these pronouncements. The last one about the joker is the closest this stanza comes, but overall, this was a weak stanza. I think you should do more to hide these direct statements of "this is how i will be happy" beneath more symbolism. "The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock" comes to mind as I read this, and i think you should spend a little time with that poem as you revise because it literally is the perfect example of a dramatic monologue.

Just one lie, the color of the moon on a clear night
Would send my life soaring through the stars,
Into the mass of scintillating black dwarfs,
Secreting the light that could obliterate everything
I have worked so hard to conceal.
"scintillating black dwarfs" sounds awesome. However, this is more somewhat tired "woe is me" posturing.

So until I am blasted back to Earth,
I will hide. No one has to know
About my imperfections
Concealed within my tiny shell
and my three thousand dollar bank account.

The end is rather amusing, but it also removes any shred of sympathy for the person in question. Is the goal to make this person out to be a bad person? I know people like this, but I think the defining character is the fear, not the concealment. It is shallow, yes, and it is escapist (avoiding those pesky questions of meaning), but it is not something to resent, even if you dislike a person. Underneath the superficiality, there's a soul begging to break free.

That aside, I think this was far too direct and straightforward to be truly successful. I had to do little thinking throughout, and it wasn't as provocative or poignant as your best work. It falls into the trap of telling instead of showing in several places, which you should address in revisions. Also, as I said, rereading "The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock" will probably benefit you in terms of the structure and style of dramatic monologue.

Not your best work, but I have high hopes for the revisions (if you choose to do them).