"He walks in skin that doesn't fit,
A name that burns, a path unlit.
The mirror shows what none can see—
A wound disguised as memory.
Laughter dies when children near,
Their eyes reflect what gods still fear.
No fire breaks, no heavens fall—
But silence now is loudest of all.
He does not kill. He does not cry.
But every step recalls a lie.
The man is gone. The mask remains.
And still, the cracks remember names."