Eyes Symmetry

It speaks to me of symmetry, and of tender little lies.
The little lies we tell ourselves, when we look into our eyes.
"These eyes are even," we seek to say. "They align in a way just right."
But we know inside, that this little lie, is purely a construction of spite.
And though this creature sought me out, and offers up its hands,
It sees things in such wicked ways, I wish I didn't understand.
It spoke to me of symmetry, and of painful, awful lies.
And now my eyes have symmetry, in a face I don't recognize.