We often hear, don’t judge a book,
The cover image can be mistook.
Within the pages, motives dwell,
Our misconceptions soon dispel.

The same holds true for the mien on my face,
One glance, you determine, too often in haste.
Assuming I’m grumpy, or weary, or sad,
Eyebrows are furrowed, but I am not mad.

My eyes are squinty, the corners are creased,
Downward twist of my mouth, and you tag me a beast.
That I don’t really care, what you try to convey,
You turn from me silently, then walk away.

Involuntary, I have no control,
It’s the way my face hangs, my muscles they loll.
On the surface, a grimace, a scowl, or a sneer,
Within I am pondering all that I hear.

Don’t read me wrong, appearance deceives,
Beyond the facade, my interest, perceive.
A smile on my lips, eyes open wide,
Is what’s truly happening on the inside.