blind.
Our tears are turbid,
Clouding our eyes.
Our hearts have been broken
Too many times…
We are blind.
And our minds
Have been molded –
Our actions: scolded
In hopes that we’ll turn out all right.
And we try –
Yet, still
We are blind.
So when time
Ticks by
A little slower,
And we believe we are seeing a little clearer –
Have experience under our belts,
Feeling as feelings should be felt…
We hope we’ll turn out all right.
And we try – still try,
But find ourselves
Still blind.
When wearisome times,
Worn-out lies,
And lines from every other different life,
Become what we call OLD…
We grow cold.
And in a moment of evanescent clarity,
We are blind.