A strange man stands on my doorstep,
and throws his sticks and stones.
He is dressed in many shades of blue,
as he tries to break my bones.

My house is strong and has no windows,
they can shatter and break you see.
Windows can only make you vulnerable,
so they are not the things for me.

Yet for reasons I cannot explain,
something about this man compels me.
Pressing my eye up against the peephole,
his face I desperately wish to see.

Only to my surprise and annoyance,
do I find his face to be blurry.
As if my house is distorting him;
uncertainties rush to my head in a flurry.

Who is this man? Where is he from?
It is these questions that I wonder.
Why can I not see his face?
And why won’t he cease his plunder?

One day I heard a knock at the door,
I knew it was that man without a look.
Deciding to ignore him as always,
I curled up comfortably with my book.

Yet while I was reading my mind remained clouded:
I was confused of my house’s odd repression
towards the answers of my uncertainties,
this fueled the fire for the obsession.

That bothersome knock echoed in my head:
the distraction an inconvenience to my reading.
I could not hide myself from him any longer,
so I gave in to man’s constant pleading.

“What do you want?” I screeched at him,
as I flung open the door I could see his face.
He was horrifyingly beautiful with piercing blue eyes
and when they met mine I first felt disgrace.

“Hello.” He said calmly. “My name is Truth,
and I’m afraid we’ve never met.”
Yet his words were drowned out by feelings
that made my former life a silhouette.

Into my house several things flooded,
and I wasn’t as comfortable as before.
Sadness, hatred, cruelty and deceit
spewed out across the carpeted floor.

Yet along with these horrors came an entire new feeling,
one I had sought after for many long years.
A sensation of clarity, knowledge, and reality
was the cause of my freshly made tears.

It seemed the life I had been living before
had been small and narrow-minded
until I met this very man
who showed me how I’d been blinded.