Masking The Strain

Some days, it's fine—I'm okay, I swear,  

Shrugging off burdens too heavy to bear.  

"I don’t care," I whisper, masking the strain,  

Hiding the echoes of silent pain.  

Then comes the weight, pressing me low,  

"I don’t know how much more I can go."  

Torn between numbness and breaking apart,  

A battlefield deep in the cracks of my heart.  

One moment, I smile, convincing, composed,  

The next, I unravel—exposed and enclosed.  

A cycle unspoken, a storm in my mind,  

Fighting for balance, but balance won’t find.  

Yet through the shifting, the highs and the lows,  

A flicker of hope in the darkness still glows.  

Maybe one day, the battle will cease,  

And the war inside will quiet to peace.