My grandpa always says how he fell in love with my grandmother’s big brown eyes.

He says I have her big brown eyes.

Although, I wish people would look past my big brown eyes.

I wish people would look at the way I sympathize.

Look at the way I’m paralyzed by my fear and my worries.

Every night I have this recurring dream.

I wake up in a sea on a thin sheet of wood.

This sea slowly changes from calm to raging.

My brain starts disengaging.

I lose track of the things in my life.

These big brown eyes don’t just smile.

They cry rivers of tears

Flooding my senses

and Making me senseless.

These big brown eyes need to be wiped.

They need to be cared for.

They need to be prepared for the hardships to come.

These big brown eyes need someone to step closer and realize they aren’t just brown

But green, and a little yellow when the sun hits them just right.

The only emotion they have isn’t sadness

But a mix of confusion and pride.

These big brown eyes need someone to guide them home.

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