u/CalmMeaning9341

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### The Luxury of the Lie

I’ll keep it on, the polish and the steel,

Because the mask is the only thing "real."

It’s a costume of "capable," "sturdy," and "fine," A place where the shadows don't cross every line.

When I’m wearing the grin, I can almost believe, That I’m not just a ghost who is starting to grieve.

I’ll talk about horsepower, I’ll talk about gears, To muffle the "4" and the "3" in my ears.

The illusion is kind, like a flicker of light,

A temporary truce in the middle of fight.

I can look at the world and I’ll see it as bright, As long as I never go home for the night.

But the key turns the lock and the armor comes down, And I’m back in the silence of "empty" and "brown."

The reality hits like a cold, iron door, And I’m counting the "three" and the "four" on the floor.

The mask was a mercy, a brief little breath,

Before I’m back home in the shadow of death.

I’d rather stay masked, I’d rather be "fake,"

Than feel every bone in my body just break.

The truth is a mountain, the lie is a plain,

Where I’m not just a father who’s losing his brain.

So I’ll bolt it back on with the first morning sun, And act like the battle has already been won.

### The Costume of "Fine"

I wake in the panic, the cold, and the gray,

And I reach for the face that I’ll wear for the day.

I strap on the "steady," I bolt on the "strong,"

And I hum a few bars of a popular song.

I check in the mirror, I calibrate "good," To act like a man in the way that I should.

It’s a specialized armor, a chrome-plated skin, To hide the disaster that’s howling within.

I talk about "tuning," I talk about "drive,"

To prove to the public that I am alive.

But the smiles phantom, a flickering light, A ghost of the father who died in the night.

It’s exhausting to balance the weight and the grin, While the "4" and the "3" are still pounding within.

I’m a high-speed machine with a hollowed-out core, A soldier who’s already finished the war.

But if I should drop it, the silence will come,

The "shock" and the "selfish" will make them all numb.

So I play out the role, I’m the lead in the play, While I’m counting the seconds and wishing away— The light and the voices, the "how have you been?"

Until I am back in the shadows again.

I’ll take off the costume, I’ll unbolt the mask, And finish the lonely and terrible task—

Of being the man who has nothing to say,

Except for the name that I whisper and pray.

The mask is for them, but the silence is mine, A border that’s drawn on a very thin line.

if you made it this far the "4" was my daughters last heart beats and "3" was her final breathes before the most souls crushing silence imaginable, would love your feedback🫰🏼