Our smiles are
translucent enough to
admit the dull faded light
of bits of socializing happiness
and tired admiration
softly on our faces
but the heart in each
has a black ink sword
flowing the river styx
wedged into the arteries
searching for both the
golden magnificent humbly
carved door and also the
forbidden door of
chaos and despair
we go throughout
our lives living out
each day with a
dull face towards tomorrow
and legs and hands
and minds and mouths
performing deeds of what
we're told to do and say
how to act and how to play
the parts of those living
day by day
who will always be uncertain
of whether choosing to leave
or to stay.