mask of tolerance

They smile, they linger, they stay, But I feel their hearts fleeting, flying away. Behind their eyes, a shadow looms, A quiet disdain that viciously blooms. Am I the burden, the weight they bear, The awkward silence in the air? Their kindness feels like practiced grace, A charity done, to save their face. Do they wince when I’m not looking? Do they breathe relief, finally unhooking? Is it pity, not warmth, I feel in their glow, Am I really their friend? Or just another check in their lists and rows? I see it in the small things unsaid, In hollow laughs and smiles dead. A truth unspoken, a bitter ache, That every act of kindness is fake. They stay not for me, but to ease Their own conscience, to find release. I am the mirror where they see How good they can pretend to be. A ghost I feel, an unseen stain, Their politeness hides a deep disdain. I wonder, do they see the scars, Or am I just a backdrop to all the stars? Still, I linger, though I know, I’m the weight they can’t let go; I'm the shadow trailing low.