A beautiful parhelion when the sun casts her eyes,

Revealing a marbling of colors that mirrors the sky.

An amalgam of hues of greys and blues,

Her eyes a monument for strangers’ views.

Like gravity’s pull they attract admiration,

Absorbing your gaze into instant captivation.

Creating an illusion of contentment and poise,

Her eyes speak for her what she can’t with her voice.

But when the sun descends, and all light depletes,

And she can no longer rely on her eyes to speak,

She reveals a storm, she tried so hard to conceal,

That her beautiful eyes don’t reflect what she feels.

An impenetrable layer meant for shielding her core,

Her eyes hide the fact that she feels insecure.

Behind them lives a violent tornado of emotions,

Slowly breaking her down like unwanted corrosion.

Her eyes are beautiful we all know this is true,

But she’s like a beautiful tree with rotted out roots.

Her beautiful eyes flood out her true essence,

While what makes her who she is, remains in suppression.

Society views her by how she is seen.

Their assumption of her already foreseen.

She yearns for understanding. For acceptance she strives.

But all that they see are her beautiful eyes.