I have washed the fragments of a man from floors and papered walls.
And I have scoured and scrubbed until the paper peeled to paint.
I should have seen the pain, behind the porcelain mask.
I once could hold a gentle man, now I am left to hold his image.
The frame as cold and lifeless as that chunk of lead and steel.
But I did not see the pain, behind the porcelain mask.
Oh! If I had not been so blind… I might have seen the warning signs.
We might have loved, and laughed, and chased our deepest dreams.
If only I had seen the pain, behind the porcelain mask.