This Blank Face

No indication…

No hint…

No glimpse…

…Of what exists beneath this blank face.

Assumption.

Theory.

Conjecture.

All the same. All useless.

Despite this monochrome map, there is more beneath the surface, like an iceberg.

Hidden.

Latent.

Occluded.

Cloaked.

And those that glance upon these blank faces, they cannot know, begin to understand, to perceive, to sense the pain, the reality buried beneath.

So, they invent stories for these supposed blank slates. They disrespect the very individuality that exists for all. They selfishly project the emotions they think they see.

There’s nothing to see.

Until I’m ready.

How dare you.

Fool.

We are not blank slates. We are not fresh. We are not new. We are not blank. Your eyes are dusty.

Grimy.

Filthy.

You perceive wrong. You are wrong.

Your eyes cannot see the truth. It is so bright, so glaring, so palpable…that all you see is blankness.

Blind.

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