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Two eyes, one of blue,
See backward like Janus
Except I got a better deal.
Past reflections are seen
Across the orb, milky undertones
Surfacing like an oil slick
That smells of rose petals.
Two eyes, one of blue,
Are used to pour through ancient tomes
That tells of Mankind's history
From hard earned intellect
To widely practiced hedonism. I count myself
Among the less fortunate, those who
See while using their own will.
My frequently worn glasses
Humble me.
Two eyes, one of nothing.
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Poetry: Broken dreams
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