If sitting in the middle of a boring class, half-asleep with the teacher droning on about long-division was a colour, that would be my eyes.

Dull. Boring. Nothing special.

Somewhere you just want to leave.

My eyes don't sparkle like the stars, they aren't deep like a poem.

They are shallow.
Lifeless.

My eyes are the only thing that describe me well,
because with no words they still say something about me:

DEAD.