Problems

“Behind the Mask”

They say I’m too much—

Too loud, too soft, too fragile.

But they don’t see the storm

That brews inside my silence.

I love too deep,

Cling to whispers like lifelines.

Is it love, or is it fear

Of being left behind again?

Borderlines drawn in blood and thought,

I cross them daily—

Back and forth between who I am

And who they want me to be.

I laugh when I’m breaking,

I smile through the ache.

But under this practiced performance

I’m screaming for someone to see.

“You’re just dramatic,” they say.

“Why can’t you be normal?”

But how do you explain

That your mind is a maze with no map?

I wear masks like armor,

Switch faces like seasons.

Because showing my truth

Feels like giving them a weapon.

I’m not broken—

I’m just stitched with different threads.

But in a world built on sameness,

Being different feels like a crime.

So I hide.

In poems. In shadows. In careful replies.

And pray that one day,

Someone won’t just look—

They’ll understand.