She moves through the crowd
with practiced grace,
a smile stitched from silence,
eyes that have seen too much to forget,
yet enough to speak.

Her voice,
measured like breath held
underwater,
is calm-
but beneath it,
a storm waits.

They see the mask-
painted strength,effortless poise-
but not the hands that tremble
when the lights go out.

There is power in the quiet,
and truth in the shadows.
She wears the mask,
but it does not wear her.