twinks in bloom

I looked in the mirror and tried to smile —

found an echo of someone I used to be.

Who is this person wearing my face?

The reflection no longer looked alive.

I was staring, but not seeing —

Only the ghost of dreams once burning bright.

And in that silence, I understood

What it meant to trade soul for the known

I wear my mask again,

that practiced corporate smile.

I walk out the door in my uniform-like outfit,

a copy-paste version of yesterday.

On the bus, I watch quiet faces pass,

imagining smiles lit by something real.

Hearts beating for a life they chose,

not the one they were gently caged into.

Doing what they want to do,

not what they have to.