The Man Beneath

The mask I wear, a crafted porcelain guise, Hides uncharted depths behind these shadowed eyes. You glimpse the surface—an actor’s polished play— But the soul beneath? He walks a world astray. These laughter lines, etched scripts of light and cheer, Conceal the wars I've waged, the silent fear. My casual stride, a dance of practiced ease, Cloaks ancient burdens, whispered on the breeze. The tales I weave—a tapestry ornate— Thread vivid joys, yet darker truths await. Each word I speak, wrapped firm in bold disguise, Veils restless doubts, unvoiced beneath the skies. I long to strip this mask and let you peer Into the fractured core, the flaws sincere. Yet fear of scorn—a binding, spectral chain— Keeps truths submerged in quiet, unseen rain. Perhaps one day, in courage, I’ll reveal The man unmasked—the wounds that time won’t heal. Expose the jagged pieces—light and night— And hope you’ll see a soul, both fierce and slight. Until that hour, this visage I’ll sustain, A nameless shadow, hiding depth and pain. But know, beyond this painted, bright façade, Dwells more than meets the eye—a soul unflawed.