Locked Doors, But Then Again Not Really.

So quiet, reserved, 

overlooked,

tattered unknown body,

mind, secrets,

soul.

Nevertheless,

the details still trace 

through an unexpressive face,

giving it all out,

but nobody looks

long enough.

Eyes growing tired

of accumulation,

all the elucidation

drained from elsewhere,

and painted there,

but everyone is 

too exhausted to find

meaning in a distant gaze,

the haze clouding their eyes

influencing every interpretation

the wrong way.

Peepholes,

heeding caution at

an extraneous throng

of conscience,

left searching for substance,

the sweet disposition

conceals a starless night

because everybody 

just wants a blue sky.

Author's Note

I don't really like the first stanza, so that may change.

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Most of it seems strained, or at least to me. Nonetheless, I enjoyed reading your work; and I do agree (not in a bad way; but rather a constructive suggestion, if that makes sense) that the first stanza has not reached full potential.

[demureminds]

Yeah I don't feel as if this flowed as much as I wanted it to either. The first stanza is just I don't know haha, I should probably add to it or edit it so it doesn't sound too choppy. Thanks for the input!