Broken

Broken, like shattered glass on a silent floor,

Each shard a whisper of who I was before.

Like a picture frame that still hangs proud,

But the image is missing, lost in the crowd.

The border remains, polished and neat,

But the soul it once held lies in defeat.

Cracks creep like vines beneath my skin,

A war I'm losing, buried within.

My skin shines bright, a flawless disguise,

A practiced illusion beneath hollow eyes.

My silhouette tall, shaped by pain,

A shadow rocking in quiet disdain.

My smile spreads wide, a painted lie,

A mask i wear to pacify.

Laughter leaks through lips of clay,

Inside, the light has slipped away.

I move through days like drifting ash,

Burned by time in a silent crash.

Each moment fragile, paper thin,

Held together by threads with frayed ends.

People praise the strength they see.

But never glance to deep at me.

They don't hear the echoed cry,

That sings behind my lullaby.

I scream in stillness, weep in grace,

A haunted soul with a frozen face.

The mirror lies, or tells too much,

Reflecting wounds no hands can touch.