𝒰𝓃𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝑀𝑒

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝒾𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝐹𝒶𝒸𝑒

Don’t hide behind a mask that ain’t yours.
It don’t fit. Never did.
You wear it like armor,
But it’s a cage.
You smile, but your jaw's sore from clenching pain.
You play “okay” so long,
You forgot what “not okay” feels like.

Yeah, the world sees you—but through glass.
Scroll. Tap. Double heart.
But nobody asks,
“Who are you when the screen goes black?”
Those tears?
They don’t post well.
No filter for falling apart.
You sob in silence,
Then wipe it quick.
Back to work. Back to normal.
But your soul's still screaming,
And no one’s listening—
Not even you.

So rip it off.
Let the cracks show.
Let the damn mask hit the floor and break.
You ain’t porcelain.
You’re blood. Nerve. Bruise.
You’re here.
That’s enough.
Let your truth be ugly,
Let it spit, shake, burn.
Because real ain't supposed to be clean.
It’s supposed to breathe.
And so are you.
Breathe.