Sunlight gleams on plastic smiles,

Like varnish on rotting wood.

Children's laughter rings hollow,

Echo chambers of forced joy.

Behind their eyes, shadows dance—

A whisper slithers through my mind:

"Scratch the surface, peel the paint,

See truth beneath the shine."

The sun doesn't warm anymore,

It sears, it burns, it blinds.

Hope breeds expectation,

Expectation births despair.

Their laughter tastes like copper,

Metallic and sharp on my tongue.

Eyes glassy as frozen lakes

Hide drowning thoughts below.

Society points crooked fingers,

Each accusing hand a mirror.

But guilt lives in the spaces

Between what is and what seems.

I stand apart, observing

Through eyes stripped of pretense—

A ghost among the living,

Cursed with clarity.