Mother, I’ve been deceived by this world,
By the feelings it so easily unfurls.
My heart is aching, heavy with pain —
Mother, today, I feel drained.

Let me rest upon your knee,
Sing to me a melody.
Today, dear Mother, I need to say,
So many words I’ve held at bay.

Your daughter never truly fell,
She only bowed, and wore it well.
They tried to break me — let them try
But breaking me became their cry

Still, deep within, I cracked apart
When friends betrayed my loyal heart
That day still haunts me, lingers on —
Why can’t I let it just be gone?

But hush, don’t worry, I’ll be fine
Though shadows fall, the sun will shine
So come, dear Mother, sit with me
Let’s talk with hearts, and just be free

I’m tired of the masks of faces,

the lies have begun, the truth has stopped. False pictures become interlocutors, and
now we live without seeing each other.
I’m leaving on the road with my destination unknown,
A friend walks beside me, a smile on his face.
I don’t know where he got this mask he’s wearing now.
Some face meets me, and
the face changes as soon as he leaves me.
Masks are so skillfully made,
even a wise eye can’t sell them.
When it’s not written, only masks,
expiration dates and dates.
Tell me too, where is that,
the workshop of the mask maker. 
I found it.
It’s an ownerless shop,
but there’s a sign on the facade that says: 
“Take the mask you want and use it, as long as you leave the original face as payment!”

Munisa Rustamova is a 16-year-old creative mind from Yangiariq district, Khorezm region, Uzbekistan. She has a deep interest in both creativity and self-expression. Through poetry she gives voice to her inner feelings, emotions, and personal experiences. Her verses reflect a sincere and powerful connection to the human soul.