Eyes are the windows of your soul,
by Bonics Bachinela
Your glass of pure breaths.
A flower of defined value,
With mirrors provided to construe.
The implicit emotions,
Pervading pungent in prevalence,
Gratiating the very senses,
with unclothed styles,
if, it's a style over substance,
or substance over styles,
But, if we wish to live in daylight,
In purposive compartments, live tight.
Because, life's not a matter of chance;
but, your own conscience of change.