I stared at this photo, and I wanted this story to be as deep as the center of the earth is, because surely that’s how far someone could have dug in the length of time I spent staring…

Yet the mantra in my mind was stuck on repeat and it repeated a cliché. I hate clichés. I spend hours rewriting clichés, but I couldn’t rewrite this one. So I wrote a poem about it instead. As if describing a cliché is any better than stating it outright.

It’s an acrostic poem, but it’s also a riddle!

 

Endlessly transparent,

Yet solid as clay,

Every time the curtains open

 

Soulful feelings bound to stray.

Every emotion, every word you think…

Every one of ‘em, shot out of each blink.

 

Can you guess the cliché? Answer below…

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Eyes are windows into the soul.

Did you guess right?