I see the world
in colors
and (h)ear
it in r(a)inbows
covering it
with a
(p)astel
of (p)ositivit(y)

Why do we judge from the outside in
As if that has to do
With the fact, the way we act
When our looks don't give a clue

You could be a crook with the best of looks
In a three piece suit
Or a millionaire with unkept hair
In a line for soup

We need to realize it's the eyes
That so often decieve
And from the start look with the heart
If we're to truly see

And not bat our eyes at the outside
But instead look deep within
After all a person's soul
Is not made up of skin

Nights like these
when the moon floats
on the creek, all pale
and swollen, I try
to sleep without dreaming
of a small child, still
and not breathing, like
a leaf felled too soon
during the season
of the monsoon rains,
heavy as the pain of a father
looking here and there,
everywhere for a daughter
somewhere in all of this water.