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Poem

We dress our souls with masks of words, as if covering our bodies with fine garments,
Every morning, we choose masks from the closet of the heart, full of unspoken stories,
Words are embroideries stitched onto the fabric of life, hiding the fragility that lies within us,
We place the masks upon our hearts like veils that filter the light of truth and shadows,
We are artists of appearances, painting on the canvas of the soul with shades of deep silence,
Beneath the masks of words, the face of truth is a broken mirror, hidden in silent gazes,
We fear being bare, stripping our souls of the garments of words that enwrap us,
Yet beneath the layers, we harbor a universe of dreams and desires, a cosmos of unrest,
Truth is a song that resonates muted within us, smothered by the masks that stifle our whispers,
We learn to dance between the light of sincerity and the shadow of pretense that defines us,
In the end, remains the desire to reveal ourselves as we truly are, letting the masks fall,
And perhaps, we will dare to be honest with ourselves, gazing into the mirror of the soul.

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