Chords, that speak of a single note

Pronounce in ink one word.

Chords, that speak of a lingering story

That finds itself standing before.

               - 11 November

Do frowns really protrude from me

As I go through everyday -

Does anger manifest itself on my face

As I work through books in class?

Do I give the signal of fear and regret

That you so openly pointed out:

The pocketed scars and the ridges along

The worn out youthful skin? once young

My dear, how shallow to see me as one

       point in Time, point on Graph, point on this very World.

How shallow to judge what I think every day

Based solely on how I look on my face.

I smiled once, or twice,

       a lot actually

But the soft twinkling eyes rather not show

For the flood of the worries, the pain and the void

Do bury myself from outside.

See me cry, see me shout out in rage to the sky

See me break down and form a new fort.

With all evil plaguing my mind constantly

Don't forget that with this,

       I still smile.