deepundergroundpoetry.com
Chaos and Hope
My eyes betray me.
They answer the questions I ignore. Ask for help when I act like I can do it alone.
They tell the stories I try to forget. Reveal the things I hide away.
They convey the emotions I suppress with simulated euphoria. Announce the fears I try so hard to conquer.
When I am lost in thought, they let everyone into my head, projecting my thoughts onto a highway billboard.
My eyes are honest when I do not choose to be.
Sometimes when I smile, my eyes shine like wishing stars. Gleaming bright hope through the thick darkness.
Other times they stay flat and whisper, “She is pretending.”
Sometimes when I laugh, my eyes light up like the July 4 sky. Dancing like sparklers and awe inspired kids.
Other times they stay dull. Dull like oatmeal or hospital sheets.
I wish my eyes would be silent.
Most people don’t notice the movie my eyes play. They don’t see the story written across them.
The people who know the secret, know the power of this silent and subtle communication.
If you know the secret, all you have to do is look into my sometimes blue, sometimes green eyes, always with a light ring of gold and larger than average pupils, to know.Know everything I am working to keep below the surface.
My eyes are the holes, where the steam leaks out so I do not explode.
My eyes tell my story; chaos and hope.
They answer the questions I ignore. Ask for help when I act like I can do it alone.
They tell the stories I try to forget. Reveal the things I hide away.
They convey the emotions I suppress with simulated euphoria. Announce the fears I try so hard to conquer.
When I am lost in thought, they let everyone into my head, projecting my thoughts onto a highway billboard.
My eyes are honest when I do not choose to be.
Sometimes when I smile, my eyes shine like wishing stars. Gleaming bright hope through the thick darkness.
Other times they stay flat and whisper, “She is pretending.”
Sometimes when I laugh, my eyes light up like the July 4 sky. Dancing like sparklers and awe inspired kids.
Other times they stay dull. Dull like oatmeal or hospital sheets.
I wish my eyes would be silent.
Most people don’t notice the movie my eyes play. They don’t see the story written across them.
The people who know the secret, know the power of this silent and subtle communication.
If you know the secret, all you have to do is look into my sometimes blue, sometimes green eyes, always with a light ring of gold and larger than average pupils, to know.Know everything I am working to keep below the surface.
My eyes are the holes, where the steam leaks out so I do not explode.
My eyes tell my story; chaos and hope.
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