My eyes are not open.
They cannot see the words on the wall, or the ones that stand tall.
They see everything that far, but nothing that is near.
They take nothing that is given but give everything that they got.
My eyes are looking at my soul and it has no light.
It is a place where the dark has call home.
A place where nothing is stored but hatred and self-doubt.
My eyes cannot see the future.
They cannot see the things that I want.
They only see the things that cannot be.
The things that will never come.
I do not trust them.
They are the ones that I got, so I must take care of them.
These are the eyes that has showed me grace.
The ones that have witness the fruits of my trees.
The ones that have led me to place where I can be free.
My eyes are not always good, but they are mine.