These eyes of mine help me see
Objects and things with such clarity
I’m blind to the deep the subjects beneath,
The ghosts, the spirits the souls they seek
To be seen and heard, yet my fixate
And pupils dilate on surface bueaty
my child elates
How to abandon years of seeing?
How to bandage years of bleeding?
The tower was flipped now it’a matter of time,
When the world ends and it begins a new rhyme.