The Eyes Poem by Kristy Winter
The Eyes
As I walk into the room
the eyes snap
toward me,
as though I had done something wrong
I walk slowly toward the chair,
and collapse into it
waiting for the eyes
to release me.
I turn to look but they are still there.
What did I do?
Nothing, Nothing.
I repeat to myself.
I lower my eyes
and fall
asleep
waiting, waiting,
for the eyes
to release their
sharp stinging
claws from within me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 3:22:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
