Growing up in a land of Gods isn’t easy.
A place where you strive to belong and try to impress those with coloured eyes. You wish to be one of them someday and then gaze upon countless others trying to break free from their shackles, so they can reach their brushes and paint theirs as well. Allowing the soft bristles to rub against their dark eyelids, turning them into flickering rainbows.
I’ve heard the stories.
I’ve heard of something called happiness…It comes once you’ve painted your eyes.
That is what they say.
That is what I’ve heard.