Monday, 25 July 2022

 Seeing All

I can see you.

I’m not blinded 

by your fine words

or the fancy dress 

of your masquerade.

But even the blind can see 

through you.

In time there’ll be pennies for my eyes

but they’re open now and missing nothing.

I know you want to hide from me,

would have me cover my eyes

with my hands

or stitch them up

to make me sightless

as death.

But it won’t work.

I’ll look between the stitches

sneak a peek through my parted fingers.

And even the blinded can see

through you.


comes only with death.

Until then

we all can see


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