Easy

If only a glimpse

Arms shift

Swift, these things of no account

No less, a jest

The faces set
Against a sideshow backdrop

Stop, a baffled blue cries

Bends us, these artists that shape us

Sketches, and sculptures

We the demented clowns, and performers

And in a day, each we will be

Like yesterday, gone

What form, previously

If only a glance

That which may offer more

Than a momentary view

Of the things behind the door

And slowly stepping through

Thin, skin, and broken bones

No substance in its purest form

No death of a question

When an answer is born

Can change just how I saw you

On the day that I learned how to see