Perhaps,
I’ve always been right.
Somewhere. Some place.
My soul has whispered this:
I’m just a fake.
A pretence.
It’s all just a performance
to fit into all society labels.
Right—
A coat of white and black—cliché, right?
But forgetting,
there are always shades of gray.

Where things outside the box of what’s called “right”
don’t always seem so wrong.
A bearer of quiet light would agree.
So I let that settle in.

I act on impulse.
I seek help—but find none.
So I bend. Twist. To fit their gaze.
And behind those locked doors…
I give in.
I numb my way
out of feeling too much
and just never enough
for a world suffused with shattered glasses.

Afterwards…
I lie still.
Let the not-so-strangers come.
Guilt and regret drape my neck
like rocks tied to a chain,
pressing the air from my lungs,
as every breath inhaled—a battle.

Little liquid.
Little sobs.
My face wields them all.
Torn from inside out.
But it stays hidden.

You don’t need diamonds, you don’t need gold,
Just that curve your lips can hold.
It’s magic. It’s fire. It’s light. It’s style.
The world gets better with your smile.

Grin like laughter dressed in gold,
Like secrets warm and stories told.
Let it twinkle, let it gleam,
Shine through clouds and chase a dream.

It blooms in silence, shy but strong,
A fleeting spark that lingers long.
So wear it true—not hollow show,
But like a flame you’ve set aglow.

Smile—not because life is perfect, but because
You are rising through the rough.

It hides the ache, defies the night,
And turns our scars to softened light.
The battles fought behind the scenes—
All masked in golden tangerines.


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“A smile is the soul’s whisper to the world
That light still lives within, no matter the darkness outside.”

@ Quinn ✍️💖