I look into the mirror,
with the same eyes that looked
upon my younger self,
and decided to destroy her.

The same eyes that looked into mine,
and consequently forgot to say,
that they cared for so many years.

The same eyes that avoid all contact,
for weeks at a time,
yet meet with cowardice frequently.

My eyes have seen darkness,
my own destruction,
for years on years.

His eyes tell me that he began,
to lock his gun cabinet,
but knows that there is more ways,
to **** someone than bullets.

I guess his eyes speak more,
than he believes them to,
but you can't put a lock,
on the silence I must live in.