Written long ago
Of a boy with broken eyes
Whose concept of the world was peaceful and bright
He looked upon the trees
In the clouds he saw shapes
He played make-believe with friends
Jumped off the jungle gym in a cape
He loved and he laughed
It was all he knew
So one day while trying to read
what the teacher drew
He squinted and he sat up straight
But for all his effort and all his might
He couldn't decipher what was said
They told him to spell it out
and he was sure it could be read
But from this distance
His tongue was like lead
He tried to see each piece separately
Yet they all looked as one
They made him get up and leave
he couldn't read it, he was done
He remained quiet for a time
Shadowed in the shelter of peers
He did his work up close
For only there was it clear
One day he mentioned he couldn't see
The blurriness had done him in
He couldn't speak in class
A mind filled with pins
He sat in the famous white chair
Eyes stinging from forced air
Maybe, he thought, this isn't worth it
but with the utmost care
The man with the tie
Opened up his eyes
With clear glass and metal
The world he knew dies
He saw the things he never could
But saw more than he ever wanted
Sight is but a beautiful thing
But when made clear, he wished he were blind
For now he was more susceptible to
Responsibility
More inclined to answer
Questions
Forced to see the world through a different lens
If I were to take it all back again
I would lose so much
But to see what I have seen
perhaps it is worth
a chance
a glance
to make things perfect as they once were
Maybe that was just childhood...
Maybe it was my eyes...
Maybe the teacher
and the man with tie
were sent to make me see
So one day I could be
the the Tree that little boy used to see
