Honest and silent cries
Who're both from truth and lies
Reveal without disguise
The stories of the eyes.

Those optics who are red,
Silver tears they have shed
And have carefully bled
The stories of the eyes.

As smoke fondles the lips,
Inhaled with gentle sips,
It gets exhaled and slips
The stories of the eyes.

Red mist covers the view
Of those jewels who're blue
Who show pitch-black nights through
The stories of the eyes.

Bubbles in the eyes hatch
And eyelashes can't catch
Streams, who (from her) detach
The stories of the eyes.

Tears roll down her rose-cheek,
Gushing forth like a creek.
And they can't stop. They leak,
The stories of the eyes.

As the streams of tears stop,
Night's veil and Dawn's breath swap,
They push, like a teardrop,
*The stories of the eyes.