I wonder why your insecurities don’t match your eyes.
You beguile everyone with your exquisite.
You don’t understand them, but they seem certain you’re special.
And you are.
If only you could see it.
You are the image at the end of the fall. You watched yourself get there-
yet you lived it all.
You silence your pain, but you never forget it’s there.
Maybe that’s why…
But your eyes are beautiful and they’ve never matched your insecurities.