Mask and Mirrors

By Ayush Kumar Agrawal

You don’t cut others to heal your wounds,

Nor dim their light to brighten your gloom.

You don’t break a soul to fix your pride,

Or build your peace where others died.

Respect once given, mistaken as fear,

Was twisted, used—till none was near.

Now silence greets where honor stood,

No eyes, no hearts, no bond, no proof.

Stories spun in whispered halls,

Won’t change the truth within these walls.

No fiction stitched in fear or pride,

Can shift what’s real, or truth can’t hide.

The man who ran from all his wrong,

Spent years in shadows, playing strong.

Yet never moved from dark to light,

From hollow lies to sacred right.

He wore his mask, rewrote the past,

But wounds ignored will never last.

The ones he fooled may still applaud,

But not the soul… nor truth… nor God.

He crafts his tale with polished grace,

But truth was never his to chase.

No matter how the stories bend,

They can’t rewrite how this will end.

While others saw a helping hand,

He held a grip they couldn’t stand.

What looked like care was silent gain,

A hidden need to feed his name.

He covered wrongs with smiling eyes,

And built a world of half-told lies.

But never sought to rise above—

From pride to truth, from fear to love.

It was all about the gain for you,

But never what the soul walks through.

If only you had paused to see,

That spirit starves in greed’s decree.

You showed such double standards deep,

One rule for you, one for the sheep.

But ties don’t last on games and lies,

Or on the masks you wear so wise.

You never wished that I would rise,

Unless it served your name or ties.

But I have stepped outside your frame,

Beyond your hold, beyond your claim.

You tried to look kind when I was low,

But couldn’t stand if I would grow.

The thought that I might break your grip

Made all your smiles start to slip.

You sense the spark I try to keep,

And fear the roots I plant so deep.

But I don’t owe the path I take,

To hands that gave just for their sake.

If the base is selfish needs,

It’s not love — it only feeds

A cycle that will wear you thin,

And never let the soul begin.

Relationships built on give-and-take,

Soon feel like debts you didn’t make.

If love must tally every part,

It’s not a home — it’s just a chart.

True care is quiet, never owed,

It gives itself, not what’s bestowed.

And I can’t survive in space cold,

Where warmth is bartered, bought, or sold.

That trust I placed in broken time,

Was not a gift — it felt like crime.

Had I been strong, not torn and small,

I wouldn’t have shared those low at all.

You judged me not for who I am,

But through your mind’s cheap scan.

As if your narrow way of thought,

Could frame the truth or say what’s not.

You saw my cracks as proof of shame,

Not spaces where the light could flame.

You turned my weakness to a tool,

And made me seem to others a fool.

No bond is worth the silent war,

Where love is debt and care is chore.

If self-gain forms the ground below,

That bond will bruise more than it’ll grow.

So I walk on—scarred but free,

From lies, from ties, from loyalty.

Toward truth and stillness I now go,

Where peace is planted, not for show.

I always had empathy for you,

Wished you’d rise and flourish too.

But never knew your joy would be

In keeping us from being free.

Wish you peace, and wish you grace—

But more than that, some growth, some space.

Maturity, not more defense,

A heart that doesn’t cost someone’s sense.

By Ayush Kumar Agrawal