if god loved me they would have been brown.

i really dislike this one, but its finished enough to post.

i catch my eyes

in the reflection

of old scissor blades.

those dreadful eyes,

the only thing thatll never change.

how long has it been,

since ive worn thin?

the scissors once an idol,

now shining,

as a representative of him.

greens slice through,

any semblance of self.

the eyes on those blades,

were never mine.

to look down at his hands,

is an acceptance of fate.

no, we can't have that.

what did i used to say?

"an eye for an eye,"

what stupid words.

oh those dreadful eyes,

blindness is my only resort.