Fake

She wears her kindness like a coat,
buttoned high around each note,
every word just trimmed and neat…
yet something doesn’t quite sit right in the heat.
Her eyes don’t match the things she says,
they flicker sideways through the haze,
measuring, weighing, keeping score,
quiet wars behind the door.
She builds her throne from whispers thin,
lets silence do the heavier sin,
a queen of pauses, loaded air,
where truth goes missing somewhere there.
And oh, she plays the fragile part,
hand to chest, a trembling heart,
but cracks appear if you look twice,
beneath the frost… not quite so nice.
Not loud, not wild, not openly cruel,
she learned a far more subtle rule…
to bend the room without a sound,
and leave you doubting solid ground.
But here’s the thing the mask can’t hide,
no matter how it’s polished, tried…
truth has a way of seeping through,
like rain that finds what’s never new.
And those who see it, really see,
step out of that quiet gravity…
because fake doesn’t break with fire or fight—
it fades… when faced with steady light. ✨