My left eye sees the honest things
A puddle, sky, a skipping stone
It watches birds with steady wings
And knows which socks are not my own

It can spot a single tear
It sees the cracks behind a smile
It knows what’s honest, sharp, and clear
It watches quiet all the while

My right eye is full of play
It sees a dragon in a tree
It turns a puddle into a bay
And swears that squirrels drink cups of tea

It just loves to tell tall tales
It sees a boat where there’s a shoe
It sees dancing trees and talking snails
And paints the sky a deeper blue

One eye will whisper, “That is so.”
It points to facts and steady ground
The other shouts, “A UFO!”
Whenever leaves go swirling ’round

Together, though, they share my face
And show a world both strange and true
Where clocks might melt and flowers race
But love still fits in every view

Together they both guide my heart
One by the truth, one by surprise
Between the lines of what’s been said
I see the world with twin-born eyes

Don’t move on rage, don’t vow on highs,
Feelings fade, and truth never lies.
We rushed through moments, thought they’d last,
But now we’re left with a broken past.

How am I?
How am I?
I am oppressed.
Here, I am not free
Or heard
Or respected.
Here, I am told what to do with my own body.

And I can’t help but wonder—
How dare they?
How dare they force me into a piece of cloth,
One they know I will disregard?
How dare they back me into a corner
And wrap me in a headscarf?
How dare they oppress me for my freedom
And cover me as if that's the answer?

Why punish the victim,
When that won’t stop the victor?
Why shun the abused
While glorifying the abuser?

How dare they expect me to listen—
How dare they,
When I have a fire that can’t be put out
Not even by my blood and tears.

The lion hides behind the truth,
A gallant knight on pain of sword.
The blind man sees which way to go,
A beggar finds his just reward.

A babblers tounge will never cease,
The tin man masks a heart of gold.
A compass always pointing north,
an unloved heart is treasure sold.

The castle strong as weakest point,
The truth will always stay the same.
A lonesome clock has all the time,
How can mortal man give God a name?

Life is beauty, and life is pain,
a dance of loss, a song of gain.
It shimmers gold, then fades to gray,
a fleeting dawn, a waning day.

It lifts us high with whispered bliss,
soft lips that touch, a lover's kiss.
Yet breaks us, bends us, tests our will,
a mountain steep, a climb uphill.

It thrills, it aches, it sparks, it wanes,
it hums in blood, it roars in veins.
It is laughter, it is weeping,
a waking dream, a midnight creeping.

It is the light that warms the skin,
the fear of losing all within.
It is the hand that pulls you near,
the shadowed doubts, the strangling fear.

It is the mundane, the slow, the still,
the silent hours, the quiet will.
It is the rush, the reckless run,
the roaring fire, the setting sun.

Yet if we never knew the fall,
would heights be precious things at all?
If never lost in tempest deep,
would peace be something worth to keep?

The jagged path, the winding lane,
the burning loss, the hard-won gain,
they carve the heart, they shape the soul,
they make the fractured spirit whole.

So let us rise, though winds may chide,
embrace the waves, the turning tide.
For life's not meant to be a line,
its peaks and valleys make it shine.

Each smile a map, each line a trail,
Etched softly on the skin's embrace.
A journey marked in fine detail,
The story written on your face.

The laugh that danced around the eyes
Still lingers in a softened fold,
A map of moments, lows and highs,
A quiet story, gently told.

Not every crease was born from pain,
Some stem from joy that overflowed.
Expressions that we can't restrain,
Emotions that our hearts bestowed.

So wear these lines with quiet pride,
They are the footprints of your days.
A testament to life applied,
A living poem on your face’s page.