The troubled brow

The weight if the universe
The things beheld
The scars of a broken heart
On Display
Transparent emotions
Its very own language
Silent speaking
But volumes told
Dampened in emotion
Mopped in relief
Omnipresent to ones existence
A hint of movement
Another mood
The awning over the eye
Which is the porthole
To ones soul
In unison it works
But with its very own story
The troubled brow