Apparent melancholy to the one whos ease
through the opal eyes
Of life anew.
I found in them reflected three aspects
to define. Dried, cured, and smoked
just enough to flavor tea.
Expectations mingle with ruined flavor,
So let it coalesce dysfunctional
While watching the highways
make merry a pointless insight,
And the scenery.
I see masks no more
Behind the walking walls
The eyes beholden a faceless madness
Too horrible to taint
Too pure to feel
Indulgent.