The eyes. The eyes. The eyes.
Glaring.
Whispering.
Staring.
You look, but you do not see,
so I indulge your vanity.
I wear your mirror on my face,
so that you can replace it
with your desires,
superficially inspired.
My unfortunate surface
gives a false preface,
disguising turmoil inside me,
my vulnerability.
I’m jaded
by misguided
intentions of flattery
in a world of hypocrisy.
Judge me this way or that;
either way, you lack
the capacity to fathom
the phantom that haunts
and taunts
my deteriorating mind.
I’m reminded
that people can be blind.
