The Woman Who Lived Behind the Smile

The Woman Who Lived Behind the Smile

She woke each day before the sun,

Her face a mask, the war begun.

A cup of tea, a trembling hand,

Her dreams now dust, her life unplanned.

The mirror knew what she concealed,

The bruises pain had never healed.

She whispered soft, so none would hear,

I’m still alive, though barely here.

He spoke in tones both calm and cruel,

Each word a chain, each glance a rule.

He’d praise her dress, then twist her arm,

Call love a gift, call rage a charm.

She learned to laugh at what would sting,

To hide the marks that truth could bring.

For silence was the price of peace,

And hope a ghost that would not cease.

She counted steps, she feared each sound,

The creak of floor, the turn around.

Her heart became a tiny cage,

A fading light, a quiet rage.

She dreamed of doors that opened wide,

Of running fast, of choosing side.

Yet fear held tight, its fingers deep,

It whispered lies she learned to keep.

The nights were long, her breath grew small,

Her tears would paint the fragile wall.

She’d trace the cracks, they felt like veins,

Of all her lost and secret pains.

She’d ask herself, “When did I fade?

When did I give the life I made?

The clock ticked on, it didn’t care,

It marked the hours she’d lost to despair.

One day, the morning didn’t lie,

The clouds broke open, clear and high.

She stood and watched the rising light,

And something stirred — a will to fight.

Her hands still shook, her knees still weak,

Yet freedom burned within her cheek.

She turned the key, she shut the door,

And swore she’d never be there more.

Now years have passed, her smile is real,

Her scars have learned the art to heal.

She walks in peace, though ghosts remain,

A softer strength born out of pain.

And when she sees another’s eyes,

That hide the same, that mask the cries,

She takes their hand and softly says,

You can escape, you can find days.