Eccedentesiast

A smile that gleams like morning dew, Conceals the pain that's hidden true, A heart that beats with secret strife, A soul that weeps behind a mask of life. Eccedentesiast, a word that's rare, Describes the one who hides their care, A master of disguise, a chameleon's art, A heart that's heavy, but a face that's smart. Their eyes, a window to a soul on fire, Reflect the turmoil that they cannot tire, Their lips, a curve of joy, a deceitful guise, Conceal the anguish that they cannot disguise. But who can see beyond the façade so bright? Who can hear the whispers of their endless night? Who can feel the weight of their hidden pain? And help them find solace, and love that's not in vain? Oh, Eccedentesiast, your smile is a shield, A armor that protects, but also reveals, The depth of your sorrow, the height of your strife, A heart that's breaking, but still chooses to thrive. May you find the courage to let your guard down, To share your burden, and let love turn it around, May you find solace in the arms that care, And may your smile be genuine, without a single snare. For you are not alone, in this endless fight, There are those who see, who hear, who feel your plight, And though your pain may be hidden from sight, Know that you are loved, and that you are not alone in this fight.