Brown eyes. Like chocolate – or dirt. But then again, it's all the same if you don't look at them to begin with. Either due to disinterest or an alternate form of interest. No matter the reason the outcome is the same. I don't care about you or anybody or anything, so leave me alone. However, this lie haunts my eyes as they radiate loneliness. My pain shines like a beacon even behind my tight smiles. Not that you could see it, because in order to notice you'd have to use your eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Lachrymose
PoetryLachrymose /ˈlakrɪməʊs,ˈlakrɪməʊz/ adjective tearful or given to weeping. A collection of amateur prose and poetry illustrating the inner turmoil. Mainly a dumping ground for loose thoughts and ideas to be interpreted in whatever manner.
