People used to say you can see someone's story,
Just by looking deep into their eyes, their soul.
I never understood what that meant, not really.
Until that one day, I ended up seeing it for myself.

That deep aura, in those gorgeous ocean eyes.
Orbs anyone would give anything just for a glimpse.
Nobody realised, or they didn't bother to see the reality,
That girl was drowning in her own gorgeous ocean eyes.

I saw the light in his eyes vanish,
that gentle curiosity I touched upon, banished.
Turning colder, distant, until ashen of a memory remained.
Until I was alone, trapped, and in this world, I was chained.

I finally looked deep, really deep.
Not just in others, in me too.
And oh, don't their eyes weep,
to be seen, and trying to pull through.

I understood now, I saw their stories, deep within.
I glanced deep into their eyes, memorising every piece of their souls.
I truly understood what the life in people's eyes meant.
They say what words can't.

I understood while his eyes brightened,
free at last, beyond this world.
But mine dimmed, bound to the silence he left,
Unable to live without the first light that found me.

I was far too lost in how beautifully striking they were
Too lost to notice the withered with age
Then cracked when I touched to admire
Morose exhaled the death of these fine flowers
Dried out of love and beauty
They collected dust where hues of livid red and snow white displayed themselves.
A bundle of frail, wrinkled flowers, xeric and unrecognizable
I still felt their beauty through their destitute for the eath and its pure spring
They ate themselves until they were nothing but ash and stems
But I still felt their beauty, as I gathered the remains,
I buried them in the back of my mind
I buried them somewhere
BEAUTIFUL