Beneath the Quiet Masks

I can smell them from a mile away

The fakes who wear their masks to play,

With honeyed lies and empty charm,

They mean to do no one harm—

But harm they do, in quiet stealth,

Feeding off the cost of health.

Hypocrites with careless tongues,

Shifting blame, dodging wrongs,

Never owning words they speak,

Weak in truth, but strong in sneak.

They smile wide, but never see

The damage sown so recklessly,

Invisible chains they craft and weave,

Beneath the surface, webs deceive.

I watch them dance their shallow game,

Pretending no one knows their name,

But I am wide awake, aware—

Their falsehoods stink upon the air.

Their silence is a coward’s shield,

Their hearts a battlefield unhealed,

They run from truth, deny the cost,

In every lie, a soul is lost.

I won’t be fooled by gloss or show,

I see the roots where poison grows,

And though they hide in daylight’s gleam,

I live awake—not lost in dream.

So let them wear their masks so tight,

I stand firm in the blazing light,

For truth may cut and truth may burn,

But from its fire, we all can learn.