Hiding your true self
Is quite a task, ain’t it?
A daily rehearsal
Of who they expect you to be.
Charming. Composed. Controlled.
You wear the mask like armor,
Smiling through storms,
Agreeing through grit teeth,
Nodding when your soul screams no.
Because fitting in feels safer
Than standing bare in your truth.
But masks are fragile things…
And pressure has a way
Of cracking even the best disguises.
When life corners you,
When the weight is too much,
When the lies stop fitting your skin,
That’s when it happens.
The real you slips out,
Not in grand explosions,
But in trembling moments.
A tear that escapes mid-sentence,
A truth blurted too fast to catch,
A refusal to shrink… just this once.
And maybe, just maybe,
That’s when living begins.
Not as the person you pretend to be,
But as the soul you buried to survive.
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