The forrest thrives here.
Amongst the evergreen tear;
a home is dashed upon an iris
as darkness' bind grips near.
Here in lies a hidden souls lips.
Pupil opens itself, lines twist
jagged hymns; it's become your pulpit.

45 going on adolescence of 23.
Society curls its calloused fingering
into the wrinkles of vulnerability,
then reaches for their lingering
unattainable; forgetting to release.
Now, never short a smile.
Seamless beauty an eye full
to the hideous scribbled peasant
traipsing the vale; dancing wild
behind feet of their present liar.

You grinning idiot... SMILE!

You've become your dream,
all you thought you wanted
is as your as that tears long kiss.
Wearing the hands of all.
Their fingers never finished
molding your conformity tall.

Found pride in their gaze,
until the day you slipped away;
Corners of your mouth fell
to the bottom of your hearts still waves.
Propped you back up subtle,
smudged expectations everywhere;
you stood lost, being built where
eyes could reach as all else crumbled.

Standing there, looking
into a thousand blank minds...
Searching for one eye
that truly was beautiful inside.
Until, a masked elderly came into view,
she was beautiful...
Youthful inside, just of age to all of you.

I wish no longer for a makeshift smile...
As I stepped away from the mirror,
and found the beauty was here all the while.