Every human masks
Lies, Lies, Lies
We lie with a smile.
We cry with beauty on our faces.
We laugh, the sound of our broken selves clinking—
as if sealed in a jar,
shaken just enough to make a rhythm,
a depressed rhythm.
We drape ourselves in royal attire
to mask the slave our souls have become.
It’s only a show we put on.
A mock costume of strength
worn over shaking hands,
trembling lips,
and fading shadows—
hiding only one truth about us:
our cowardice.
They ask, “How are you?”
“How was your day?”
Behind keyboards, we type:
“I’m fine.”
“It’s all okay.”
Like it ever is.
And when they ask in person,
we dial the same reply—
“I’m fine.”
“All is well.”
But in reality,
is it ever?
Angelandpen
A