Mask

He is much too young to be indifferent
Still many years from seeing,
All of life’s tragically beautiful colors
Yet he wears a malaise tinted jacket,
That he should not possess
There is only a few moments,
Where he is seen transformed,
His habitual countenance forgotten
These secrets he will not share
There is no wish, to multiply pity
Not for his sake, it would not be welcomed
Besides only the words could be conveyed
Showing its shape, but leaving the mystery,
Of where it should fit
This puzzle is not ours to solve,
We are only to bear witness
To watch his silent tragedy,
Until his voice can be found
The discovery must be his,
To decide with which words, he will paint
Until then let us show patience,
The aching moments they will be
And have faith, he will soon unveil,
The mask that his pain wears