Blinded yet so willing to see,
I find myself darkened by my stiff reality,
Eyes once bright have faded into coals,
Burning flecks of a pained Crimson soul,
Heated fantasies roam the imagination sadistic,
They find blood coarsing through every inch,
They find scars unopened,
and bite through them,
Pain hurts when sight has been lost,
yet numbness always burns it away.
I find such pleasure in knowing not who you are,
I find pleasure in not knowing expectation...
I need not see you, to know your beautiful,
Yet I believe you to be this,
My expectations remain high,
Because I know you to be, my most beautiful lie....
This achroos world, where vibrancy has greyed,
Fallen colors fade among the shadow,
My paintings of sight or washing away,
There dripping through the eyes seen as windows,
Colorful tears of what sight was,
run down the canvas, I left blank..
I feel such anguish as I watch these colors fade,
Yet I find peace in knowing, I won't be able to see the lies.
Another great poem. Really like it. I've walked on the dark side, so i can See what your saying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Blindness, like certain mathematical assumptions, can reveal more than our simply looking at something with our imperfect eyes.