We all wear masks,
Some are elegant,
Some are deviant,
And some bizarre-looking.

We all wear masks,
Be it brilliant or dull,
Extravagant or simple;
Some a smile, some gloomy,
And some a frown.

For we are all theatrical;
We go about our masks,
We don them very well,
We want our faces kept hidden,
That no sunlight could touch them.
And we display ourselves,
That this is the real me, you, us.

We always look in the mirror,
Adoring our masks,
Obsessing over it,
Till we completely forget
What our true faces look like.
So we state to impress,
As we gather in a masquerade,
Dancing like devils in the night of lies.

There were days that I cried,
Because of all the pain,
Till it came to a point,
That I got tired of feeling,
That I got tired of pain.

So I hardened my heart,
Every day, I hardened my heart.
So much that it turned into stone,
Then it turned into steel,
Till it completely rusted, falling apart.

We don't see how much we are blessed
Until we see another in distress
I sat down next to this man on the train
Dark shades at 8 pm
Walker on his right hand
He was a blind man
Sitting next to his wife who was able to see with both eyes
Two different visions but one sight
Two different worlds collide
He held her hand with love
Far from a strong grip,
he didn't depend on her to see
When they spoke his words hit deep
He's a visionary that can't see
He whispered in her ears
Then she blushed and smiled
That's what she wants to hear....
hesitantly
Asked him to explain this love to me
He said words can describe
This woman right here is my beautiful wife
Indeed beautiful she is
As he sat there and described her physical appearance to me
As if he can see
The color of her eyes how they were as blue as the sky,
the way she did her hair in a ponytail,
The way her nose is shaped outwardly
And how her lips are the size of his index and ******* combined
He kept on
On The way her head tilts when he rambles bout her beauty
On how one eyes is smaller than the other when she laughs
The way she flicks her hair when she's mad
Then said but that's not love my son
I described her to you because I've touched her, felt her
You see my son I love her
My greatest gift was to be blind
Because I know her
See beyond the physical
I know her
I can dream up the perfect woman and she probably won't even come close to her
I can tell her emotions when she speaks
I don't need to see her cry
I understand when she's sick
I know how she feels by the fragrance of her skin
I just don't hear her I listen too
Her heart beat when I'm close
Her heart beat when I'm gone
That there my son is love
I don't need vision
This right here is my beautiful wife
"This stop is 191 st street" the conductor announced
He stood and she followed
He held her hand with love
Far from a strong grip, he didn't depend on her to see
All day in mind the story resides
How much I wish I was blind

So once love came,
In the form of the
"Greatest Love Story Ever Told".
Though perfect, it stooped down
In our imperfectness,
Bearing the eternal romance
That we so desperately seek.
For our hearts were designed,
To yearn for this perfection;
So much that it was given free,
So that we can see,
That love so true,
Is meant for me and you.

Some days, my heart
Is like a raging sea,
Thrashing and howling;
Like a thundering cry
That bursts through the
Dark skies and storms.

Some days, my heart
Is like a still sea, empty,
With no tides and waves;
Like a deafening sound
Of silence that echoes
Through the dead air.