Craving for Blue

I hate my simply brown eyes,

This color will not impress you,

No one will love their muddy shine.

For they are not as good as blue,

They only show the darkness of night,

The type that won’t let the stars through.

These eyes do not show a ray of sun,

Blue shows light the whole world can view.

When people see me eye to eye,

They are not looking into my soul,

They are not seeing blue oceans deep,

All they see are dirty, dark holes.

Brown isn’t worth a second glance,

And won’t find a set of eyes to love,

My eyes won’t be named pretty,

They will never be highly spoken of,

Beautiful poems won’t be written,

No songs will ever be harmonized or sung,

Brown eyes are old rotten roots,

Blue eyes are flowering irises so young,

My eyes can’t see the beauty,

And won’t gaze in another’s eyes,

The way I know blue eyes will.

They will never ever be called wise,

Brown eyes aren’t noticeable,

They’re just mud puddles made by the rain.

They are just dirt to step on.

No one knows about this awful pain.

The pain of craving for blue.