Masks Of The Mirror

Beneath the fractured crown of glass, A child sits lost in silent class, Surrounded by masks both sad and sly, Learning to smile while wishing to cry. A forest of shadows claws at the floor, Old toys abandoned, joy no more, Yet fragile fingers grasp with care A paper smile for eyes to wear. The mirror whispers truth and lies, Reflects the storm behind the guise, Broken shards above, below, Reveal the pain we seldom show. So many faces strewn around, Twisted, trembling, without a sound. But hope clings close: a gentle plea, A wish for who we’re meant to be. For every mask that's forced in place, A silent longing for embrace. Inside the surface, deep and dim, The heart awaits its voice within.