him #

his eyes carry sorrow, invisible in daylight,
tears slipping out only where shadows gather.
he hides in silence, corners where no one lingers,
letting the weight spill in secret, unseen.

follow the lines drawn from his eyes to his jaw,
each a quiet story of wars fought and lost.
years have stacked on years, a heavy collection,
each moment chiseled into the flesh of his being.

and his gaze? it’s an unspoken confession,
a quiet agony painted in muted tones.
you’d swear he’s fine, wouldn’t you? but look again.
there’s a fracture there, a crack he can’t disguise.

beneath his clothes lie remnants of his journey,
a terrain of battles most can’t comprehend.
every scar, a marker of a place he’s been,
every bruise, a testament to the storms he’s faced.

that smile he wears? a careful construction,
a mask built over years of hiding the truth.
but the story’s still there, if you have the nerve—
just look into his eyes and see the weight he carries.