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Unto it I looked and inside I saw-

Senses of bitterness, happiness; emotions raw.

It changed and formed on a whim, an indefinite label,

Clearly distinguished, yet never same, never stable.

I once saw a man and into his face I looked,

Anger and resentment I saw, unhinged and crooked.

Into a baby’s round face I looked,

Innocence and exploration, queries it cooked.

My eyes once were laid upon a dying man.

I took his hand, told him he did as much as he could.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, his face turned slack,

As blank as a white sheet; emotions though-went black.

A perfect mirage, a deadly weapon, a liar’s tool;

Careful, for who doesn’t know Janus is a fool.

A carefully crafted façade, feigning truth;

Distorted expressions served by a cruel tooth.

A face is a book open to the one who can read,

Yet it hides secrets, caution one must heed.

An output of emotions, a relief to mystery,

In faces, we remember our and others' history.