Sorry, it's a little complex and unconventional
An iris, cerulean blue.
Rimmed with not-a-clue.
A pupil oh-so-black.
There's something it does lack.
Retina of dreams.
This one's not all he seems.
Concave, convex, all round.
Flickering without a sound.
For each eye tells a story.
Of what they've seen, with glory.
And each tale holds its own,
So relish what you're shown.
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