Oh those eyes;
innumerable amount of eyes.
Just following me.
Gazing at me. Staring at me. Glaring at me.
As if I were deformed;
a monster that doesn't meet
the quota for aesthetically pleasing.
As if I were a deviant;
fearing that they may the next victim
of whatever scheme I am concocting.
As if I were a cow
causing earthquakes with
each step I take.
As if I were a stick figure
recoiling at the slightest touch
for fear of the pain.
As if I were a diety.
Bold and beautiful
flowing gracefully across their path.
As if I were a genius.
Just waiting in line to hear
my views on the world.
Or maybe they're not following me at all.
Maybe they're looking right through me.
Straight past me.
They don't even notice me.