Windows

A strange poem. I'm not sure why I wrote it any more. Ah well, good anyway.

Doorways to the silent world,
Gaping like eyes of a soul begging to be understood.
Yet only the silent world is reflected in those deep empty eyes.
There is a kind of artistic emotion in the nothingness seen through those eyes.

The dwellers stand behind the eyes giving new life where before, nothing.
But still, no soul is reflected in those eyes.
Those deep begging gateways to life.

Still they stare, and still no one sees.
There isn't anything to be seen anyway.