My eyes didn’t become blue on their own.
You wouldn’t think they were quite as pretty
If you’ve seen every single thing they know.
Yes, my blue eyes have seen the greatest days,
but they have also seen blood and way too many graves.
My eyes are often glossy, like glass that may shatter
You think they look like ice, is appearance all that matters?
My eyes have seen true love, my eyes have seen you at your best
But have you looked deeply into them, can you see the memory of death?
My eyes are like an ocean, hypnotically blue and alluring,
but don’t let their appearance deceive you- for there may be demons lurking
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
My eyes didn’t become blue on their own.
You wouldn’t think they were quite as pretty
If you’ve seen every single thing they know.
Yes, my blue eyes have seen the greatest days,
but they have also seen blood and way too many graves.
My eyes are often glossy, like glass that may shatter
You think they look like ice, is appearance all that matters?
My eyes have seen true love, my eyes have seen you at your best
But have you looked deeply into them, can you see the memory of death?
My eyes are like an ocean, hypnotically blue and alluring,
but don’t let their appearance deceive you- for there may be demons lurking
Request permission to use this poem