Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
It wasn’t from my heart,
the laughter, I mean.
It rose on cue,
light as paper,
folded neatly at the edges
so no one would see the creases.
The smile too,
placed carefully
where a smile was meant to be,
like a painting hung
to cover a crack in the wall.
There are rooms
that require brightness,
tables that expect cheer,
streets that reward
the well-rehearsed grin.
So I wore it,
that curved disguise,
as naturally as a coat in winter.
No one asked
if it was warm enough inside.
That is how life is, isn’t it?
A daily theater,
with no rehearsal
and endless performances.
We learn the script early:
laugh here,
nod there,
say I’m fine
when the echo inside you
answers otherwise.
Not every smile is real.
Not every laugh is born
from joy.
Some are stitched together
from obligation and survival,
from the simple need
to move through the day
without explanation.
And still,
behind the practiced light,
a quieter truth breathes.
Soft. Unseen. Waiting.
Because even in pretence,
there is a pulse.
Even in the act
there is someone real
standing just behind the curtain,
hoping one day
the smile won’t have to be placed,
it will simply arrive.
That is life.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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