Literature
Windows
The entry to the soul,
the objects that always tell the truth.
Eyes that judge.
Eyes that love.
Eyes that hate.
Eyes that wait.
That simple orb,
with an array of color.
Eyes that are cruel.
Eyes that are perfect.
Eyes that are regretful.
Eyes that are broken.
Like snowflakes,
eyes are never the same,
be it emotion or color.
Eyes that close.
Eyes that open.
Eyes that freeze.
Eyes that burn.
That simple color-filled orb,
that shows the soul filled with love,
or that can be cold as ice.
Eyes that are filled with hope.
Eyes that are filled with confusion.
Eyes that are filled with sadness.
Eyes that are filled with nothin