Masks We Wear

Mask of silence,

stitched at the lips,

a smile painted

over fractured bone.

--

I wore it in daylight,

so no one would know.

The neighbors waved,

the teachers praised,

and no one asked

what lay beneath.

--

But at night,

the mask cracked,

and my ghosts poured through.

They filled the room,

crowded my lungs,

and whispered the names

I wasn’t allowed to say.

--

I wore the mask of laughter,

a bright painted grin

its colors chipped at the edges,

but no one looked that close.

--

I wore the mask of obedience,

eyes lowered,

hands folded,

my own will hidden

beneath the surface.

--

I wore the mask of survival,

a shield against fists,

against words sharpened

into weapons.

--

Each mask heavier

than the one before,

until my neck bent

under the weight.

--

But truth is patient.

It presses from within,

a pulse, a heat,

a fire refusing

to stay buried.

--

And the mask,

no matter how carefully made,

no matter how tightly tied,

can never

hold it forever.

__________________

Thanks for reading! -- Sam