Her Eyes
By Kristjan Brezovnik

I met a woman, a girl actually,
Body of a dancer, face of an angel.
She walked into the tavern lightly,
So innocent-looking, with an air of danger.


Her eyes, so deceptively warm and bright,
Are like two vortexes, sucking up the light.
She is a beautiful, child-like girl, walking like the wind,
And you can't help but to want to help her.


But in the darkness behind her eyes,
A little scared child is hiding.
Under pain and hate she lies,
Along the path of death she is striding.