There is a mask on the cover of The Lie.
Not just for design.
Not just to look good.
It means something.
We all wear one.
The mask is the version of us
The world is allowed to see.
The calm face.
The strong one.
The one that says,
“I’m fine.”
Even when we’re not.
Behind that mask
Is everything we don’t show.
The thoughts that don’t stop.
The memories that won’t sit still.
The pain we’ve learned to carry
Without making a sound.
Sometimes we need the mask
To interact with others.
Because society tells us
We must act in a certain way.
And sometimes
We do.
But I have always felt
The mask restricts us
From who we really are.
It keeps us contained.
Acceptable.
Easier for others to understand —
But further away from the truth.
The lie is not just what others tell us.
It’s what we tell ourselves
To survive.
“I’m okay.”
“It didn’t hurt that much.”
“I’ve moved on.”
But the truth sits underneath —
Quiet, waiting.
The mask becomes habit.
You wear it so long
You forget what your real face feels like.
You forget how to speak
Without filtering yourself.
You forget
Who you were before you needed it.
And there is something else
We don’t talk about enough.
Some people rely on that mask.
Narcissists thrive on it.
They need you to stay quiet.
To stay composed.
To keep the mask in place
So their truth is never exposed.
Because the moment the mask slips —
Their control starts to break.
That’s what The Lie is about.
Not just the pain.
Not just the survival.
But the moment you start to see
The mask for what it is.
Because awareness
Is where everything begins.
Not freedom.
Not healing.
Just… seeing.
The mask doesn’t fall off all at once.
It cracks.
It slips.
It gets heavy.
Until one day
You realise
You don’t want to wear it anymore.
And that’s where the real work starts.
Thank you for reading
Your DislexicPoet
🖤