The Mask You Wear

 

You speak of boundaries, time, and choice,
With a polished tongue and a softened voice.
You parade as a good son, partner, and friend,
But your mask slips and the lies never end.

Behind closed doors, you wield your words,
A lightsaber of hate, aimed to hurt and burn.
"Just shut your face," you sneered at me,
And I watched your love turn into cruelty.

You praised another’s body to weaken my pride,
Sent pictures, and comparisons—cut me open wide.
Now you say, “Just focus on chores, that’s your place.”
But weren’t you the one who sought a woman of grace?

You claimed you wanted strength, a voice with power,
But only so you could make her wilt and cower.
You preached respect, love, and honour like a saint,
But your actions smeared the words with taint.

You hide behind the mask of a dutiful son,
But if your father saw you, would he be proud of what you’ve done?
Did he whisper from the grave, "Avenge me, my son,"
By breaking down daughters until they come undone?

You speak of love but know only control,
Demand submission while tearing at my soul.
You act as if you’re some righteous, brave face,
But all you’ve shown is a heart devoid of grace.

So keep your pretty lies, your public charade,
The world may buy it, but I’m not swayed.
For I’ve seen the man behind the guise,
And no amount of words can disguise
The darkness you try to dress in light,
The cruel game you play when out of sight.

But know this, I’m no longer broken and small,
Your venomous words cannot make me fall.
I rise with every wound you've tried to inflict,
And I’ll speak the truth you thought I’d restrict.

You may scream of boundaries and boast of respect,
But your own reflection demands you reflect.
And when the world sees you for who you are,
It’s not my face that will be left with a scar.