In Plain Sight

January 29, 2012
If eyes are meant to see,
Then why can I feel their presence?
They way they stick fast like Brambles to cotton sleeves
Irises of deadly color
Hypnotic green and icy blue
Looking right through me,
Seeing fear
Tasting sweat that drips
Down my neck
And pools in my palms-
I breathe but there's no air
I'm in a vacuum
I try to scream but no words come
My ears are blocked
My mouth is.
The people keep moving
Just like they always have
Neither seeing, nor hearing,
All eyes forgotten,
Heads turned away.
They can leave
But I'll always be here
Just rotting away,
And the question remains.
Am I the only one who's real,
Or did I never exist at all?

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