Would your eyes speak,
if they were what I am?
Or would they be inviolable
and perceiver to be wide-eyed.

When they are yielding and blurry,
from this hunger that they suffer,
because they don't deserve the food.
Will your eyes cry,
or accept their slow sucide?

When they were hated for having the colour,
and intergrity of their mother's.
Will they conceal oneself and show resentment,
or will they accept the fate as honor?

When they are bruised and unaturul shapes,
and their only friends are:
Ice cubes and makeup.
Will they tremble to your touch,
or will they have thick skin?

When they are masked over
and intricately concealed with make-up,
will their biggest fearis eyes,
seeing through eyes,
Or will they grim, and bare their salvation.

When they never show their,
disdain and anguish because-
they forgot how.
Will they become dark and cold like mine,
or still be happy to force their smile
and play the game.

When the charade ends,
Have you suceeded?
Have you pulled the wool over the worlds' eyes,
or only your own.
And maybe the day will come,
when your blue eyes fade to gray.
When you become aware and fragile,
and your eyes will no longer be naive.
You're emotions will be quick and stern,
when you're eyes are what I am.

Me.