When I have succeeded, I thought I could see everything. I thought that truth is clear, unchanging. When I walk out I hear, "I need actions, not words." Who could have thought actions are more deceiving? When I see passersby I think, "Of the great variety of faces, how many aren't just everyday masks?" Although we may not see that grey exists between black and white, or the verity behind careful deeds, or the line between truth and falsify, we can live happily . . . When our eyes got wings.

This is my first attempt to use free verse style (never approved of it much because of it's messiness). It seems to work well with this theme though.