Every reflection of my smile
is a well-disguised scream.
Behind the curve of my lips,
pain sits quietly
like a ghost wearing perfume.
The mirror doesn’t blink.
It listens.
It hears the trapdoor voices in my skull,
the ones whispering,
“you’re fine”
while dragging chains across my thoughts.
I stand there,
watching myself pretend to be human and it feels rehearsed.
Each day a new mask,
each night another fracture.
Somewhere between my grin and my guilt,
a version of me keeps dying softly,
begging for silence that never comes.
And the mirror,
cold and cruel,
just keeps showing me
how well I’ve learned to lie. To
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 3:11 AM UTC
Every reflection of my smile
is a well-disguised scream.
Behind the curve of my lips,
pain sits quietly
like a ghost wearing perfume.
The mirror doesn’t blink.
It listens.
It hears the trapdoor voices in my skull,
the ones whispering,
“you’re fine”
while dragging chains across my thoughts.
I stand there,
watching myself pretend to be human and it feels rehearsed.
Each day a new mask,
each night another fracture.
Somewhere between my grin and my guilt,
a version of me keeps dying softly,
begging for silence that never comes.
And the mirror,
cold and cruel,
just keeps showing me
how well I’ve learned to lie. To