I come to you humbled by life.
Looking deep into the pupil,
studying the deep ridge in you iris,
trying to find any indication of a lie.
Not the outward lie that so many indulge themselves in,
but one that is much deeper, much darker.
The inward lie that controls your life
The one that causes you to hurt and to hurt the ones you love.
You who stand before me with that accusing look on your face. 

I know you well;
I have studied you eyes before
Though now you seem foreign to me.
Not the person that I know,
so full of ideals and morals,
so full of dreams.
Where did those dreams go?
Did they die in you shouting matches with a silent God?
Are they incased somewhere in your depths?
You once embraced and celebrated life.
What happened to that person?
I miss him. 

I can still see him buried in that look,
that look of which I give.
Life has not been so cruel that it is now time to give up.
It is time to attack harder, to fight more.
Be the person that you are.
Do not conform to the will of that death which you almost seem to exhale;
that death of dreams.
The innocence may be gone,
and naiveté along with it.
That does not mean that you are beaten. 

The eyes soften a bit,
show more concern than that fear.
A tear forms around the edges and drips down to my cheek.
Let it go:
Be untainted by the darkness you have walked through.
Feel no threat and threaten none.
Carry forward without these burdens
which have been worn like a cloak.
I blink my eyes once and reopen to find those eyes that had been lost,
still slightly clouded,
but they have begun to clear.

Poetry