The Unseen Wound

In the heart's darkest chamber, where sorrow resides, A secret anguish, a hidden, heavy load. Our pain, like a river, with tears as its tides, Burdening those who would offer their support. We jest and we laugh, but inside we are torn, A mask worn for others, a false, hollow smile. Yet, in their compassion, they feel the thorn, And bear our burdens, though not their own trial. Their hearts echo our pain, a silent plea, A prayer for our healing, a wish for our peace. But still, we persist in this satirical spree, Ignoring their love, their kindness, their grace. So let us remember, as days turn to night, That our pain is not just our own bitter fight.