“Porcelain Mirage"

They praise the sheen, not the cracks beneath, A porcelain mask, sculpted in grief. Smile stitched tight, eyes trained to gleam, No one dares ask what shadows mean. I’m the silent storm behind the veil, A whisper drowned in love grown stale. Pretty they said, like that's all I am— A vacant shell, a broken dam. Lonely halls in crowded rooms, They never hear the ghost that blooms. I scream in scripts they never read, My chapters buried, left to bleed. Hope flickers like a dying flame, I fed the world, but starved my name. I gave and gave till I ran dry— Would they even flinch if I said goodbye? A soul misunderstood, bruised and brave, Dancing at the edge of a nameless grave. But even ashes remember fire, And shattered things can still inspire. -AshT