The mask

Beneath the painted guise, a fragile heart, Its colors vibrant, yet shadows play their part. A masquerade of laughter, eyes that gleam, Yet within, a tempest churns—a silent scream.

The mask, a veil of silk, conceals the ache, A dance of shadows, secrets it must fake. Behind the laughter’s echo, tears reside, A fragile soul, its wounded dreams denied.

The world applauds the artful masquerade, Yet in the quiet hours, truth won’t fade. For every painted smile, a hidden tear, A heart that longs for solace, love sincere.

The mask, a fragile armor worn each day, To shield the tender spirit from dismay. But oh, the weight it carries, burdens deep, As night descends, and weary eyes seek sleep.

So let us see beyond the painted guise, Embrace the raw emotions, tears that rise. For in vulnerability, strength is found, And love can heal the wounds that life has bound.