Pretense.

Where is known no time or haste
In a room, inside a place
A sole beige cabinet
Thirteen drawers up to the top

At the top, the biggest one
Opened, it is empty, but
A battered cardboard box withholds
All the things that go untold

A memory not understood
An emotion unexpressed
A thought gone undecided
All things without the ease of rest

And with the box does come a mask
Of solace, patience, happiness
A facade to flaunt in time of woe
A face to wear, to feign, to glow

A lie they tell, but in the eyes
It's just to help the ones prized
So they may feel no disdain
And do not see the deep down pain