The Double-Edged Coin of Being

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I see the coin, eternally spun,
A truth in every rising sun.
Not just the metal, hard and cold,
But stories in its facets told.
One face, a shimmer, bright and fair,
The public persona, beyond compare.
The other, shadowed, etched with lines,
Where hidden motive truly shines.
This isn't just a trait, unique and strange,
It's woven through life's daily range.

For them, the women, it's a learned art,
A double chamber in the heart.
The profit whispers: "Smile and yield,
Keep private truths impeccably sealed.
Nod softly, listen, play the part,
And watch your social climb take start.
Gain access, influence, a gentle sway,
A quiet power, day by day."
It's in the roles we're taught to fill,
The silent strength, the iron will
Behind a gaze that’s soft and kind,
A sharp assessment of mankind.
These masks protect, they often aid,
In battles silently arrayed.

Yet, oh, the loss that softly bleeds!
A garden choked by poisoned seeds.
The genuine bond that can't take root,
The spirit's whisper, rendered mute.
Each compromised, each word unsaid,
A piece of authenticity is dead.
The constant vigilance, the strain,
Of separating joy from pain.
You watch your words, your very stance,
Lost in a calculating dance.
And when it's turned upon your soul,
The wound it leaves, beyond control.
A sister's betrayal, a friend's sly cut,
The trust that’s broken, tightly shut.
This currency of dueling grace,
Extracts a toll on time and space.

I see the weary eyes that hide
The conflict raging deep inside.
The strength required, the endless fight,
To keep the two faces out of sight
From clashing loud, a jarring sound.
This isn't virtue, I have found,
But often armor, finely made,
A necessary, dangerous charade.
And in this game, both sharp and sly,
The truest self is left to die.
A heavy price for what is gained,
A spirit quietly constrained.

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