We wear smiles as armor
With bloody wounds beneath.
Our banners are the tattered remains of old dreams,
Fluttering in a breeze of sighs.
We drift around one another like dry dandelion florets,
Smiling our armor smiles as we pass without touching.
We paint our lives with vibrant hues,
Portraits and pictures of unfelt peace.
The skin of our lives,
The carefully crafted, molded, and made-up skin,
Is often a plastic wrapping hiding shared flaws.
The smiles we put on every day are sharp inside.
They tear the wounds anew when worn as armor.
Three things I’ll say:
We were not built for isolation
and deep wounds are only healed by another’s touch.
The beauty of life is found in the scars
and it takes bravery to fly even tattered dreams.
Armor smiles protect best when they come from an open heart.