What good is it to judge me?
What do you see?
Perhaps a bitter young lady
In the presence of thee, I
May be a blind - but I
Once could see; pictures of
Sunsets, handsome faces
And much more.

No I am not blind!
Though I appear so
I still see faint pictures -
Of gatherings for
Christmas, Easter even -
New Years dinners.

You taunt me, your endless
Repetition, 'Bitter blind bat' - lo
Your torment does me no harm
Anymore but rather jostles -
Me to hold tight to what
My people's faces look like.