**Walking Out of Character**

In the quiet corners of a bustling cafe,
between the chatter and the clink of cups,
I catch a glimpse of my reflection,
not in the mirrored glass,
but in the eyes of strangers,
and I ponder the character I wear.

This costume of words, an old coat,
threadbare memories stitched with care,
each patch a moment, a laugh, a tear,
the mask I crafted to fit in,
to dance on the strings of expectation.

But what happens when the lights dim,
when the audience drifts into shadows?
Do I shed this role like autumn leaves,
crunching softly beneath my feet,
or do I cling to its form,
a cocoon woven tight against the cold?

Yesterday, I played the part of a dreamer,
speaking in visions of vibrant tomorrows,
while inside, a whisper pried open my ribs,
asking for courage, for the flare of truth—
to be flawed, to be free, to be authentically me.

I think of the words left unsaid
that sit like forgotten notes on a piano,
waiting for the right hand to press
the keys that have collected dust,
the symphony stifled deep within my chest.

The life I’ve scripted with careful...