Your Brother's Struggle

Each of us carry mountains
Behind these airbrushed smiles,
It's funny, we appear to float fleetingly,
Like clouds across a barren sky,
While our feet remain firmly planted in the ground.

One man's mountain is another's molehill and
One man's molehill is the other's mountain;
And sometimes, the dust of another mountain is revealed to you,
And tears wash away those perfunctory smiles.

The dust of the dust is stifling,
The tears project a struggle,
And reflect, not your weakness,
But the boundaries of your capacity.

Eternal moments pass.
The storm subsides.
Eyes constrict their flow.
Smiles return their glow.
You regret ever asking after the mountain.