The Eye of an Innocent

The eye of the innocent is a target. But, it is different each time.
The eye of the bashful innocent holds clouds over the green fields, as if they are a shield. The eye of this detached one is like a pond in the pre-dawn light, cold and mysterious.
The eye of this paranoid innocent is skeptical, like dirty river water that grows darker.
The eye of this innocent child is pure, a barely opaque emerald. Their utter guilelessness is all they are seen for.
The eye of this thoughtful innocent is clear, but dark, as a lake of words.
The foggy eye of this one is as elusive as a hare.
The eye of this one is too many things to comprehend. The multi-colored target swirls, confusing and mesmeric. Like clothes in a dryer you can see through.
All of these eyes are like candy. Sometimes sour, sometimes sweet, others are both.
All these innocents have something in common. They are like a stained glass window.
Into which one may see what they are inside.
So much to hide, and so little to conceal.  

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