Quote On Quote.

Explain your looks through a blindfold over my eyes. Give me the details on your figure.
As much as you could elaborate over yourself, you could never give me a picture perfect view of your face.
A portrait always has its blank in different eyes; and these eyes aren't even seeing the canvas.
I could run my fingers over the walls, but I'll never be the one holding a paintbrush.
Thus I will meet the genius who painted a portrait of you when He ties this blindfold from my eyes.
I heared this man makes no mistakes in his designs, flawless and makes beauty shine in more ways than one.
To my confusion his works of art love to cover their faces and run away from each other; was this part of His design?
Not only does it not help that I am blindfolded, but they're all masking their true identity along this dark corridor.
From the reds to the blues, I've found that they're colorless in this multi-pathed maze.
I find myself from time to run into the walls that scream right back at you; I've been told that this is for me to figure out.
Meeting this ingenious maker is going to be the only relief I have when I exit this hall of the granted.
I could find multiple meanings into one, this is a challenge my feet have led to.
Mistaken only by two figures, one similar to the others that cover their face and one that promises to stop my wandering.
If I am not bewildered in my own thought, I am pondering on my own decisions.
I may not be able to see but I can see that I'm better off with the blind, His masterpieces.