Your hand hides your face

Whenever someone wants to see it

They wonder

Does he smile?

Or does his frown reach the ground.

Does he whisper so no one hears a sound?

I'm using they when I really mean I

Guess that's my way of pretending

That I'm not curious.

I feel it's wrong

Don't ask me why

Because I don't have an answer

And I'm too busy wondering to notice

I wonder

Does he sing?

Or do those hard nights and memories steal his voice.

Does he realize he has a choice?

To leave it all behind

To take it all in

Take in the minds who wonder

... Is he alright?

Or is he just writing out short stories.

Does he know he makes me worry?