Eyes are the gateway to the soul: showing what your real motives are. Andy's are warm  like a summer breeze with greens and browns that bring a soft demeanor to his angry face. Adelaide's are blue with greys streaking through like bolts of electricity during a storm. They could be cold as a castle, but they are warm, speaking of truth and honesty, and full of compassion. Hael's are bright and blatantly show the German heritage that flows through her veins and arteries. And Amy, who manipulates everyone, has eyes that tell that she is of loathing, and insincerity.

But my eyes, my eyes, like deep pits full of regrets, change like the wind.  Color show the regret that I feel today. My eyes leave a door to my soul open that anyone could see into if they looked deep enough. They give away my deepest secrets when I try desperately to shove them to my feet. Photographs show black where my sclera should be. These polaroids show what really lies beneath the surface. People wonder and try to reach out and grab me out of my skin, but when they saw my eyes, they knew that it’s too late. My eyes show my true form, which only a handful can see. These handful know what my eyes screech: sprint. Because what lies underneath, shown by my eyes, is feared.