Behind the mask, no face to find,
A trick of mind, ‘neath sun that’s kind,
Yet rain pours down within the soul,
Where hidden truths take their toll.

“Get up, get on, you’ll be alright,”
The lies they tell ease the plight.
A crown once worn, now tipped and slanted.
Society’s stigma, harsh and untrue.

“Go out, be free,” they say, unaware,
That solitude’s chosen over despair.
In sorrow’s depth, alone you wallow,
While unseen, in code, for help you call.

Attention sought? Not even a hand to hold,
A listening ear, as your story’s told.
Over and over, being told “You’ll be okay,”
But will they listen, or just turn away?

Until the end, when all is read,
And in the paper, your name is led.
Will they see then, what they missed before,
Or just a picture, nothing more?