This is a poem I wrote when I was only 15. I think I've matured in my writing since then, but I usually refuse to write poems nowadays. Either way, I still want to see what you say about it.

My eyes are windows.
They may seem fogged up,
And you can't see inside.
Distastefully stained with Sin,
No one knows what's within,
Until they look deep and see true sorrow.
Don't worry; it will be curtained by tomorrow.
Blinds hide things from the outside,
But people with true sight know what's inside.
Closed windows with open blinds,
Sometimes you have to search for what hides.