I tilt my head,
Squint a little with my eyes,
And look ahead in frustration.
My world is never in focus.
I gaze into my mirror,
Peer directly into it,
Standing not more than two feet away.
I can barely make out my own reflection.
I wipe away a teardrop,
But I want to cry more when I
See the soft outlines of my face,
And cannot make out that tear.
Mirror me is wearing a solid green shirt.
At least I can make out colors normally,
I think, but then I look down and remember
That I can’t even see the darker green stripes in the mirror.
I have a giant poster up on the wall,
Hung up to reflect directly into my mirror.
I like illusions of a grander room, but
Today, the jumbled black lettering just taunts me even more.
I hate my eyes,
I want to claw them out and
Rid myself of their inept, inefficient, sight.
I want to cry and cry until I can see properly again.
I want to cry.
I want to escape my own eyes,
My own destiny of near blindness
Haunts me day and night.