Forest eyes

Forest  Eyes

You have the most beautiful eyes they say,

The most striking forest green.

Then they ask me if they are real,

Like I truly know what they mean.

No Sir I reply, they are not real,

They are made of colored glass.

And if you think that's a good pick up line, you can kindly kiss my @$$.

Just kidding though, that is terribly rude, A thing I would never say out loud.

They seem to think that this question they ask,

Is one that should make them feel proud.

What they don't get, is that what they ask,

Is solely about my forest eyes,

It is never about who I really am,

About the soul behind that lies.

The color of a dappled tree canopy,

Is all they see when they look at me.

They see no person, no soul behind,

They will not see all I'm made up to be.

Ironic that green is the color for growth,

Of learning and wisdom and gaining knowledge.

When they see that color staring back at them,

They blindly refuse to acknowledge.

The color they see has a soul attached,

One that is worth getting to know.

See beyond the hue, go beyond the first glance,

It's work that requires you to learn, to grow.

They look at me all right, they see my eyes of green.

But when I say look deeper, they don't know what I mean.

It is a beautiful thing to have someone look at me,

To see beyond to all I'm meant to be,

A human who wants their soul to be free,

Not just the girl with eyes like a shade tree,

Will that ever happen to me?