Mask

Reflected in the mirror, a stranger stares back,
a mask of borrowed expressions and rehearsed lines.

Such a person walks a tightrope of expectations,

balancing her precarious ruse on the edge of someone else’s dreams.

Each step, a calculated move,
a dance to a rhythm not her own.

She wears the costume of a wallflower,

hiding from the outside,
hoping it will shield her from the internal quake

She created for herself.

Beneath the surface, cracks begin to form,
the weight of pretense too heavy to bear.

The illusion of safety wavers,
her fragile facade in the face of truth

Begins to crumble.

In the quiet moments, when the world fades,
she glimpses the person she left behind.

A whisper of authenticity calls out,
urging her to shed the layers of deceit,

for in the embrace of her true self,
lies a strength unshaken by the tremors of change.

Finally…

In the light of her own being,

her authentic self,
she finds a stability that no mask can provide,

allowing for the first time…

a reflection of her truth,

needful as it is to be strengthened.

Another failure of self

Is not an option.