The Tears Behind My Mask

The Tears Behind My Mask

I wear a face that is not my own,

stitched together with careful lies,

a smile painted in steady lines,

that never trembles, never fades.

But behind it, something is breaking,

a quiet collapse no one can hear,

a storm held back by fragile walls,

that crack with every passing day.

My eyes have learned to hide the truth,

to shine when they should fall apart,

to look at the world with borrowed light,

while darkness gathers deep within.

There are tears that never reach the surface,

they stay trapped beneath the skin,

heavy as words I never spoke,

sharp as memories I cannot erase.

I laugh when I am meant to laugh,

I speak when silence would be real,

I play the part they expect to see,

and bury the rest where no one looks.

The mask grows tighter with each breath,

pressing against the shape of me,

until I forget what lies beneath it,

and who I was before I hid.

Sometimes I feel it slipping,

a crack in the perfect disguise,

a glimpse of something raw and aching,

reaching out from behind the lie.

And it terrifies me more than anything,

to be seen without this shield,

to stand exposed in all my truth,

with nothing left to protect my soul.

So I fix the mask and carry on,

step by step through crowded days,

a silent actor in my own life,

applauded for a role I cannot escape.

But one day the tears will find their way,

they will fall and refuse to hide,

and when they do, I wonder,

will I finally be free, or finally undone.

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