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Over and over
10, 20, 30 - times
Reading, thinking
Wondering the place
that spurs this
Wrong here?
Is that my what?
Being Read?
Nobody dictates it
Don't intake it --
that's what I should think,
sometimes is
Then I see, Analyze
this seems odd,
and this
Do they twist, swift, swap?
Is this grown
from outside soil?
Is this how they see?
broken pieces? Some missing
Why continue?
Some suggest no miss,
hollow wishes not missed
Stumble, trip, fall
Regret the one -
yet its placement matters
No room to fill -
Rather a pocket
I give my eyes,
they wear them
with a self-made cleaner
A cleaner that works
if it's their eyes,
not mine
They think
with their eyes
with their cleaner
They think
what my eyes see
With their ears
I don't have a self-made cleaner
I'm not skilled
I ask for their cleaner
I think with their eyes
But sometimes their eyes don't fully connect
And sometimes a smear still happens
sometimes
After it all,
I continue to Read, think
how did I see this?
Is there something I'm missing?
Is there something different?
Yet some don't consider,
what's missing,
what's different
Why words that seem harmless
hurt more than they seem
because they continue
to see with their eyes
to see with their ears
to hear with their thoughts
Who is I? Which sides?