My Eyes

We come in this world pure,

With a certain gleam,

A light in our eyes.

But over time,

We lose that gleam,

that light.

It's taken from us.

Not by choice.

No.

But by the horrific realities of life.

Look into my eyes.

What do you see?

That gleam?

That light?

No.

It's far from gone.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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