Seems told my own eyes have the same shape as my own mothers, and the same color as my personal fathers. They can be not properly symmetric, they may be colored with an regular shade of brown. They generally daze or perhaps close all together at unacceptable times. Trying to find told that eyes are the windows on your soul; that eyes are a ghost of your past. They may have colored the spectrum of my emotions. They have illuminated desperation, relax, deceit, denial, delight, dreams, devotion... They may have illustrated recollections stemming from ecstasy and sorrow, quickly flooding my eyes in reminisce. I've been advised to cover my eyes during scary movies protecting me in the gore they will otherwise encounter, and avoiding nightmares from evading my unconsciousness. Trying to find told to pay my eyes, unconsciously walking to a gathering of my friends. Uncovering these to be welcomed by a multitude of streamers in every kinds of shades, various laughs, kind sight, and pairs of forearms ready for supportive embraces. Trying to find told that eyes may depict emotions in a a lot more eloquent method than any kind of words may. My eyes can speak the moment words can't be said, when they cannot be identified, when stop is too rigid to break. My own eyes will speak when holding looks are the only suitable comfort to become given. I do believe that your-eyes the widows to your soul. At least in my case, they fully portrayed each of the happiness I actually felt after i finally started to pronounce " tree" instead of " three", when I was able to speak like my peers, when the badgering sign that was given to my opinion as a foreigner began to fade. My eyes changed love and support if a close friend experienced an injustificable loss. My own eyes were full of empty stares when be anxious regarding my personal sisters mental health overcame me. I've been told that however regular the color of my eyes, they are yet to colored his eyes with love and happiness. Which makes them outstanding.