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Blindness

Eyes sewn shut
cannot see the firmament blue.
So what does it feel like
to be the gray shadow,
the blind creature,the invisible?

And why have they been sealed,
and will they never again open,
does time dictate how and when
the sun returns
from its sojourn
away,
behind the curtain:
the blackest of nights usurp all beauty,
the privalige of sight,color and light,purloined,
depraved.

And when the eyes, without egress,
mind becomes master,
distortions seize,
ill landscapes vandelize lucidity,
ill landscape

The individual grieves
for identity
when the monotony of unsanitary
voices whisper harshly
from behind the walls
no one else can touch
or hear
Unable to stifle or strangle
the dialog cannot be intercepted
imprisoned beneath the skin
that has betrayed
and the brain with wires frayed
the beauty eradicated
when the eyes were forced into occlusion

The lack of gratitude
for the senses intact
is sickening
When some have options
for the greater paths of life
and the spotting of a miraculous flower
illuminates their moment
Do they realize
that nothing hinders a normalcy
that guides them through their hours
and sickening
are the circumstances that deprive
some of ever witnessing with bright eyes
the vision and assurance of a stability
that glues them together
but the adhesive is not there
and the brokenness damages their faith
they cannot stave off the deafening call
of a mind that manipulates them
into conforming to its bidding
its cruelty
its indifference towards sanity
the blackout and the death
of all freedom
pariahs of joy and light.


-othesun23

othesun23 othesun23 31-35 1 Response Dec 3, 2009

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This is so beautiful. Yes, you do write poetry. Thak you, LW