All Eyes On Me Poem by Samuel Kerby

All Eyes On Me

The eyes are the gateway to the soul, they say.
It's a beautiful thing.
In all of your eyes is a life, a person,
A spark and a fine, perfect line between us
To be seen… a beautiful thing.

All eyes on me

I used to feel like I was always being watched
Like a spotlight was cast on my head
Shouldn't that be nice? To be seen?
But that spotlight shone like an X-Ray
And exposed some jagged bones
And the anxiety that had carved them.

I recall silent anxious attacks
When my palms became pools
And the halls felt like they were turning sideways
I recall beating myself down with words that stung like cacti
And pounded like clubs,
Pounding no more than my heart,
As mind contorted glance into glare, smile into smirk,
Life into Labyrinth.

All eyes on me, eyes, eyes
Eyes are the gateway to the soul, they say,
Peer into them, and you see the root, the core
So through my eyes they must see the boy with nothing
But self hatred and shame

Even as I would sit alone in the sanctuary of my room
I'd imagine an audience.
They'd point and laugh at the boy
As he held his knees tight as wrapped tinder
Laugh as he sobbed,
Eyes piercing like bullets.

All eyes on me

Can I just leave?
Take my exit, black the lights
Have a moment of peace?

Yet here I am, reciting my lines,
Holding facade with trembling hands.

All eyes on me

And their eyes are burning like brands,
Searing my skin and stripping me raw
The eyes are the gateway to the soul
And it feels like mine is being ripped from me.

All eyes on me

Can you see me? Years
I spent unseen and unheard
Spite and fright of
Spotlights and sightlines
But I'm here now,
Hear now
Hear me, speak words, curse
The past worries with verve

Your eyes on me
Your eyes on me
See me!
You aren't medusa, you're not superman, and
I'm not petrified or fried alive as I stand.
On this stage, I stand in my former worst fear,
And your eyes should see clear here I've won.

I've won that terrible fight.

And now I wish I could call back to that boy.
As he held his knees and sobbed.
Tell him that I was sitting in the audience that day and all along
I didn't point and laugh.
I was there, in low tones whispering
‘Everything will be okay.'

The eyes are the gateway to the soul, right?
I give you mine.

A slam poem I wrote and performed for the 19th annual Mackinac Poetry Slam.
Error Success