See these feet:

    Notice the shape and size, corresponding well to my height.

    Notice their secret, as they hold no arch in sight.

  See the callouses, the blisters, the cuts and bruises 

    All from those more than lovely shoes my feet daringly slipped in to.

    They tell a tale from each occasion,

    These stories appearing as only old abrasions

    However, holding much more than a simple occurrence 

    More of memories if only shown as an ugly scar.

  See how they hold me up, they hold me true,

    Standing their ground as the world tends to

    Run me ragged by the unending days of work, to the happy feet I try to place on this earth.

See these hands:

    Notice how they move.

    Notice how they fling around in the midst of that long and descriptive conversation.

 See the way they conduct themselves with such anticipation. 

    The unique grasp they have on a brush or a pencil, 

    The way they can stretch from key to key and from string to string, still finding ways to be gentle.

    They seem to find their own way around, 

    With their need for touch,

    If only for the sensation.

  See how I twirl them from time to time,

    As the years have gone by.

    Like glimpses from a future of a small rift. 

    Making a fist and listening to the way the bones can pop and shift.

See this face:

    Notice its round appearance with a set of dark brown eyes and what always appears to be a smile.

    Notice the creases and folds, the darker pigments of tragedy untold. 

  See the sparkle and the mess

    Hiding within each eye, 

    Nothing more than stress

    Without anyone ever knowing

    Any doubt of worry,

    Only seeing them glisten with determination and passion.

  See now the smile.

    What once was filled with crooked teeth and gaps holding beautiful memories,

    Holds now a set of what is found in my own maturity. 

    Leading me to believe it is what causes any and all conversations in a room filled with strangers.

    Just a cheerful display and occupation with no proof of the underlying demons in any situation.

Just see me,

    An attempt at a stature of perfection, holding true to that of innocence and adolescence 

    While fearing the end and unknown, with a positive disposition that is prone

    To seeing so much more than what is offered and shown.