Genuinus Adulescentulus Poem by Thor Manchester

I looked into his eyes and asked myself,
Is he a man?

I asked myself,
Does he really know the things I think he knows?

He can't know my true fears.
But it seems he knows me?

I have studied the human eye.
There are 6 movements that reveal motive and
then 15 variations of each.

Everyone I see and meet,
Even the cruelest of men,
The pupils expand or contract reflecting their emotion.

Laughter,
Affection,
Happiness,
Joy.
The pupils open.

Anger,
Hate,
Malice,
Fear.
The pupils close.

But not his.
They stay fixed, those
tiny points of smuttiness.
Those eyes; his eyes.
Eyes that hate everything, everyone.

Eyes that see through the darkest blackness
and that let in zero light.
They stare into you, each
pupil a dark minute pearl stuck in space.

Two bullets shooting into you,
They seem to sting saying he's more than a man.
Eyes that say he knows you.

No...
You know what he is.
Stop lying to yourself, you
know who he really is.