Self

There is a subtle beauty found in tears.

Like a soft drizzle, the rain does not stop.

A small remark of joy, of pain, of fears.

Gentle sobs and heavy hiccup sounds hop.

Little comfort here, little comfort there.

Pieces of advice that we may have ignored.

Aids accepted sometimes bias, sometimes fair.

Even still, we find ourselves ever so cornered.

Faced with challenges, we shake anxiously.

Then cowering about something unknown.

Faced with interest, we poke curiously.

Then gallantly charging something unknown.

We are contradictions of ourselves.

Behind every mask is another self.

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“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.” ― Blaise Pascal