In shadows cast by cynical light,

Resides a tale veiled from plain sight.

They dance upon a stage of fate,

A masquerade where masks conceal,

The tunnels of human caprice.

Accepted, they have, a scripted role,

A narrative that consumes the soul.

In the alchemy of compromise,

They’ve found solace, no need to fight back.

Yet, as they sip the bitter brew,

They find a sweetness, a truth they know.

For in acceptance, a strange power lies,

To find joy in scripted okays and goodbyes.

They’re those who’ve made peace with life’s bends.

For in their smiles, a riddle is spun,

Of a life lived, accepted, and still, somehow, won.

– Winniefred F. Gbemuotor