Windowpane Poem by Oliver Tasman

He jokes, he laughs, he smiles, he grins,
it’s a carefully sculpted exterior.
For behind the grin is a grimace, the two are akin,
only the eyes show he feels inferior.

They don’t glint nor gleam, dulled by hurt,
inexpressive to safeguard against pain.
Confronted with conflict, they quickly avert,
while the face conveys ease, though feigned.

Friends come to his aid but it’s not enough,
empathy not pity is longed for.
He continues the appearance of resilience and tough,
If only they looked past the façade and saw.

They do not see.