In the quiet of the morning,
I lace up my shoes,
strap on a smile,
and step into the world,
a bright mask for a dimmed heart.
Each day, I paint my face,
colors chosen carefully,
hiding whispers of pain that
only the mirror and I know well.
I walk through crowded halls,
faces blur by like shadowed dreams,
and I wonder,
if I faded into the air,
would anyone pause,
take a moment,
wonder where I've gone?
Inside me, a storm brews,
winds of doubt and fear,
ripping apart the ties I have
to this place, to this pain.
Slowly, day by day,
I feel the edges softening,
the world growing distant,
a mere reflection in a faded glass.
Yet, I push on,
because I can't bear the thought,
to make someone else feel heavy,
to draw sadness from lips that only laugh,
not knowing the weight they wear beneath their cheer.
I ask myself, would they care?
Would they hold my hand, if I fell?
Or would they turn away,
forgetting the smile that cloaked my truth?
So I keep smiling,
even as I disappear,
a ghost in the living,
while the quiet echoes of my heart
remain unheard, unshared, unseen.
