The Icy Grin

I am describing the mask we wear sometimes.

They don't
hear the sound
-small, insignificant,
failing words to define -
scratching at my senses
as I tread each day
upon its top.
A tell-tale
crack
not
shaped
like the tight
smile that I show
to the world, a barrier
fending away the queries of
wellness and fortitude.
I have decided that
I am not afraid of
the ice, just that
which lies
below.

Reviews

[Champagne]

But it's the ice that hides the thing, it's the ice that gives a false impression of stability, it's the ice that deceives.

I'd rather be afraid of the ice and face the thing underneath direct.
Nevertheless, quite beautifully done.