When I look into your face,
All I see is the power.
Dead eyes.

The isn’t something
To be held or tasted or any other sense
But seen. Seen in those dead eyes
Everywhere. Even you may have
The power.
Dead eyes.

When I see dead eyes, all I can
Feel is despair and a blackness
Creeping over everything
Like a veil. It emanates
From those dead eyes.
Dead eyes.

There’s only one way to describe dead eyes.
Gray, chunks of the power, perfectly
Rounded off, set into the fresh eyes
Of some unsuspecting victim.
The power soils them, darkening the space
Around those dead eyes, and making
It seem as if the hate and fear
Will never end. I’ve seen it.
You’ve seen it. It shall always live
In someone.
Those cruel, awful, chilling
Dead eyes.