Pain has etched it's self on your face.
Be still pride, overtaken with disgrace.
No longer care free in spirit and form.
Touched with grey, replaced with storm.

Beauty with our eyes we see.
Strokes of color flying free.
Gracing the pages of well worn books.
Easing away grief stricken looks.
A sigh brushes cracked, wet lips.

Feeble attempts at this existence
leave me jittering with persistence.
Moving constantly trying to find
some semblance of a peaceful mind.
People join in with the charade.

It seems life is not so great.
Laughing with glee that Twisted Fate.
Changing all in front of my eyes.
Telling me nothing, but perceivable lies.
Master's of imagery shaking my core.