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Mar 2017
His eyes ,
They were at first,
A daunting green that we're clouded with mischief,
They quickly became an emerald ,
That clouded my every thought ,
Then ,
Then they became a colour I couldn't recognise,
His body just became a suit for the demon within ,
His hands were no longer mapping my body ,
No ,
They were the ones around my neck ,
His body seemed to be a fragment of my imagination,
His whole existence just a ,
Dream I once dreamt ,

His eyes ,
His eyes were what drew me in ,
In the end it was his eyes that killed me,
They say the Eyes are the windows into the soul ,
Guess I should have listened.
This story was inspired by a poem I read  it's not about a personal experience of my own
Written by
Shadowhollow  16/F/England
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