Dark eyes to match his dark hair, smouldering with emotions of pain and sadness, eyes filled with memories of pain, brimming with tears.

Hers are such a bright blue, the shade of the sky, flecks of the sea and Cinderella dress blue scattered around. Full of such evil and malice, enough to make even Hitler afraid, and trust me, he was.

Against his chalk white skin and hair, the red of his irises stands out like blood on a wedding gown. The subdued happiness and excitement hidden behind the eyes are shielded by a glistening look of indifference.

The pale grey of her irises are such a light colour they blend into the whites of her eyes, and it looks like she doesn't even have irises. All you see is the bloodshot whites of her eyes and constantly dilated pupils, the result of her continous high.

My eyes? My eyes are purple. Or brown. Or green. My eyes can be like yours. Yes you. You with the pancakes. You with the Panic! At The Disco t- shirt. You with the kitten. My eyes can be anybody's. I can be anybody. You see the fire in my eyes in whatever form I am. It would be the last thing you'd see. Ever wondered why there aren't mirrors in churches?