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Clare Martin Clare Martin
Recommendations: 12

Hazel Eyes


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soul mates

Grassy green, ghostly grey, bark brown,
The eyes that I'm born with are unique.
They're beautiful, bright with wonder,
And always willing to see more.


The green is like the leaves on the tree
The brown is like the trees bark and
The fallen ghosts of the past in colour.
The grey is the storm clouds above the forest.


I adore the rain forest in my eyes.
I no longer fear the still waters of the lake
Or the mirror in the wardrobe I use everyday
With the beauty of this eternal reality.


Staring into flames is somewhat surreal.
When storm and fire clash, all Hell breaks loose!
Yet my rain forest is eternal, always existent.
Fire cannot hurt my forest; it cannot hurt me.


The forest darkens when night falls upon me.
Gazing at the moon, it is filled with wonder.
My Watchers come alive and they always smile,
Always equipped, forever vigilant, powerful.


When tears fall, the clouds have rained too much.
The river is flooded and tilting over the edge.
The drain is opened and the water runs through it
And down my face in two solid yet flowing streams.


This is no cure for the insanity that has
Taken me over, no cure for the isolation I endure.
Simply, it is a means of escape when a mirror should come,
Which it often does, or a reflection in a dark screen.


These eyes are truly nothing, fearsome though they are.
Compared to my wounded heart, so little do they see.
They view nothing other than the long-dried faded footsteps
Of the dull, old darkened pavement in the middle of the street.


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