The Splinter Beauty

Behind the spotlight

Angie Eliza

In a world of flashing lights,
where dreams are wrapped in gold,
the path to stardom gleams bright,
but beneath, a story unfolds.
Each step is a dance on glass,
a smile crafted to please,
while whispers of doubt linger,
a heart crumbles with unease.

From dawn till dusk, the grind never stops,
training until the body aches,
the mirror reflects perfection,
but the soul slowly breaks.
Choreography sharp as daggers,
lyrics filled with pain,
the burden of expectations,
a relentless, heavy chain.

Fans chant their names with fervor,
but the silence cuts deeper still,
for behind the adoring faces,
lies a heart that's lost its will.
"Be flawless, be bright," they echo in unison,
"Make us smile, never cry."
But when the curtain falls,
who's there to hear the sigh?

The weight of a thousand dreams
rests on their weary backs,
sacrificing their childhood,
as the light slowly cracks.
Moments stolen from friendships,
a life lived on repeat,
the world only sees the stage,
not the shadow of defeat.

Each victory feels hollow,
each trophy a gilded cage,
for in the pursuit of fame,
they lose their tender age.
The camera captures laughter,
but it can't frame the tears,
the pain behind the curtain,
the fears that smother cheers.

They wear the mask of idols,
perfect smiles, radiant grace,
but within the gilded armor,
there's a longing for a place.
To breathe without the spotlight,
to dance without a crowd,
to shed the weight of whispers,
and finally speak aloud.

"Can I be just a dreamer?
Can I falter and still rise?
Can I feel the soft embrace
of life beyond these lies?"
Yet in a world of idols,
the answer often fades—
for the price of being perfect
is the life that never stays.

So they walk the narrow path,
with a heart both fierce and small,
a tapestry of shattered dreams,
woven within it all.
And as the lights keep shining,
they yearn for something real,
to find a thread of solace,
and finally, to heal.