I see the world the way I see myself
One, simple set of eyes.
Desperately searching for that hope
that tomorrow will defy itself.
That it will bring something else
Other than today.
Much like the rest, I close my eyes
at times,
when the uncertainty seems too much
Or divert my attention away from the sky,
towards the leafy mulch.
I can do it, the game that is.
The slow walk onward to the edge.
I too can march with sturdy shoes,
then swiftly step backwards off the ledge.
At times, when I am feeling particularly lost
I will muster up the desire to take a peak
but the world always waits both eyes wide open
an unwavering stare,
churning within the unfathomable deep.
Muddling, my eyes water - my fists clutching
at my tear soaked chest.
Even death doesn't seem like enough,
for I will not know the truth
even then.