My eyes are shut, welded when it comes to my children.
My eyes waive at today, shutter at the past, and shy away from the future.
I don’t want to understand.
I don’t want to be happy.
I carry an umbrella at my side
And right now I’m allowing the ex-gas of rain cloak me from you, the world.
I can open it at any time, but right now I am content with my apparent transparency.
DON’T LOOK, but please peek, I whisper screams of hurt into your eyes.
Worry, but be happy. Continue on without me, smiling on you grave
Crying at the happiness of the children I could have provided
Grow tense at the watchful eye of big brother, of Him, of
Mother nature, of every living organism that surrounds you
At any given time at any given place at your heart.
My heart’s optical frames are covered with the dark sunglass tint of a blind man.
I dare’s not to bask in the warmth of a sun so temporary, so fragile,
Wonderment of an internal crisis crossing the threshold and never, never, never glancing behind it. Behold the entrance to my circus sideshow of me—from the inside.
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