Everyone is a building we never see inside,
All we see is the caulking in which the true self hides.
We take the facade as truth and dare not look within:
If we're forced to see their truth we see ourselves within.

Every facade is a lie, the face of love or hate.
In our walls we cannot die and never come to late.
Inside lies the cluttered years where old hopes have lain:
Here a still life, there a tear, here an echo of pain.

The thoughts are frozen in time, held and trapped without motion
Each one a painting of time empty of emotion.
Doors are buried by fallen rock: we cannot let them see.
In everyone is a lock shown to those without the key.
- Josh MacLeod, 2001