In the silent hours, behind a smile,
beneath calm eyes,
Wages a war that lies just outside of your view.
A tempest swirls, though these faces are placid,
The Mind’s eye is filled with reluctant storms —
fierce, and erratic and Possibly
fiercely erratic.
Whispering shadows that speak of strain,
echoes trapped inside cranial plains.
Mornings drenched in another sweet façade,
while the Nights unraveling, quietly flawed.
Being the “bigger person” sometimes masks the scream inside,
where fears shine a light so bright
doubts have nowhere to hide.
Unseen battles fought atop silent graves,
In these twisted sanctums my soul is a slave and i can hear
The Heartbeat is starting to stutter
courage, fear.
Chaos looks pretty covered in veneers.
Who hears the unspoken pleadings or the silent cry,
Behind the laughter, maybe you can hear it in the sigh?
Not every fight is seen or heard,
Within the mind every line is a blur and
The Quiet wars go unshared and left to endure.
Behind locked doors the mind conjures up
fragmented selves and
although some pieces get lost,
The Smiles and their victories are piled high
and lie right behind the soft smile.
Please, even if you just try, try to be kind.
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