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They think they know me—
Words I toss like coins, glinting in the sun,
Exposing just enough to weave a tale,
A mask, a screen, a fragile veil.
They see the parts I let them see,
Believe the lines I let them read,
But beneath the noise, a silence creeps,
A shadowed truth that no one seeks.

I call for help, a whisper in the night,
But they turn away, blinded by light.
"It's clear, it's bright, there's nothing wrong," they say,
For the dark is hidden in plain sight.
Yet some come, with torches dim,
Through the blackened mist, they peer within.

They seek the cracks, the unseen rift,
Not swayed by the daylight’s blinding gift.
They trace the shadows, find my hand,
And pull me up, where I can stand.
They search, they care, they see beyond,
Not just the words, but the silence strong.

So what's your excuse, what’s your claim?
When you left me to call out your name?
In a world so bright, where darkness hides,
Some hold torches, some pass by.
I am the keeper of this game,
But they are the ones who call my name.

By star writes