The eyes have made their way back
once again, to pry on what I lack.
The eyes open wider as I undress
the layers of old skin that I won't address.
The eyes skim on each hair
that stands up as I lay bare.
The eyes that once died have resurrected again
to see what's in store for them to gain.
The eyes drown in opportunities,
as they fail to see their inner mutinies.
Yet, their eyes never dry out
from their bed of lies from which they live out.
Sep 25, 2021
Sep 25, 2021 at 5:22 AM UTC
The eyes have made their way back
once again, to pry on what I lack.
The eyes open wider as I undress
the layers of old skin that I won't address.
The eyes skim on each hair
that stands up as I lay bare.
The eyes that once died have resurrected again
to see what's in store for them to gain.
The eyes drown in opportunities,
as they fail to see their inner mutinies.
Yet, their eyes never dry out
from their bed of lies from which they live out.
Request permission to use this poem