| Written: AUG 19, 2003 |
Dark hate lay simmering in these eyes.
Blackish they are, but bright lights to my being.
They are windows to this shy soul.
Hiding, shielding me from prying eyes.
But emotive in the extreme,
Ready to scare in my anger,
Willing to bring others to tears in my sadness.
All feelings radiate from them,
As they never could from me.
Joy beams from them at will,
Ever the jester I am.
And mischievousness brims over,
As devious thoughts leap free like little sprites.
From the golden happy times,
To the red rages,
Only the deep brown of ancient forests
Can shine through in warming tones.
But beware the too hot black of loathing,
Hatred darkening all they set fire to.
And I take everything to such extremes,
Call it over dramatizing if you must.
But we all know the scariness of it lies
In that I am too full of Passion.
