The piercing stare of damaged goods, The sullen visage of mourning shoulds The feckless tries of touching wood, No quarter drawn to end the woe. The lights are gone, Theyve taken down the faire; Or were they ever even there? There is something enchanting and magical about her eyes. Is she from above or below? Im frozen, affixed at their glow. There is something different about these eyes, like amethyst and tigers eye and jade, but jaded long before their time. Almost like she existed prior to this interval.