Eyes are the window to the soul they said.
They told us that the good guy doesn’t always finish last.
They told me that despite my flaws..
They’d see my soul.
But when you look into my eyes,
You’re not distracted by my kind soul
All you see is a set
of green eyes.
You see the color and the shine.
You cannot see the compassion
The satisfaction
The passion
You couldn’t tell that my soul was in fraction by my eyes,
But by the tears.
They said the good guy wouldn't finish last…
But he always does.
Are the eyes the window to the soul?
Or are the tears?
The sweet green of my eyes
Won’t show you demise
Or the lies
I’ve been told
Or my fear
of growing old
Or the memories
This soul
Can hold.
These windows have bars
Through these eyes
You may be mesmerized
But you won’t hear the cries
Or know how wise
My sister,
was.
Through these tears
Maybe you will understand
Firsthand
My love for the world
My fear of birds and hurtful words and death
And my fear of finishing last.