I wear the face they handed me
A painted grin, rehearsed and clean.
The one who laughs, the steady guide,
A hollow shell with cracks inside.

They call me light, say I won’t break,
But no one sees the breath I fake.
I smile on cue, I play it well
A polished lie, a private hell.

This life is stitched from silent screams,
A script of someone else’s dreams.
And every laugh, and every line,
Just digs the grave I hope is mine.

A master, yes! Of quiet pain.
They never ask. I don’t explain.
Tonight I sit, the role intact,
Among the crowd, the same old act.

But then…
She stares.
Eyes like blades.
Not fooled. Not swayed.
The stumble lines I used to know
She watches close. I’ve lost the glow.

Then soft, she speaks
A voice like fate:
“I see who hides beneath your face.”

My chest goes cold.
My mask decays.
Is this the end?
Have I been saved?