The Eyes I Never Owned

The Eyes I Never Owned

They told me I would see, the world reborn through glass,

A gift pulled from another, stitched into my flesh.

The first blink brought light, yes, a clarity so bright,

Yet shadows crawled beneath it, whispering in corners.

I wore someone else’s gaze, and the world turned strange,

Faces familiar twisted, voices carrying weight.

Colors bled differently, each green and red a warning,

The sky felt heavy, as if mourning what I could not name.

Every reflection haunted me, an echo of their soul,

I tried to speak, and my voice caught on invisible lips.

The city moved slower, the rain sharper, more cutting,

Even joy tasted foreign, like a memory that wasn’t mine.

These eyes were transplanted from an evil queen,

Someone who walked in the worlds in between.

A wicked person, not true, not kind,

These eyes are burning evil into my mind.

I screamed into mirrors, demanding the eyes return,

The transplant promised vision, but delivered vigilance.

Now I see the hidden, the cruel, the secret in every glance,

And the gift of sight feels like a curse wrapped in light.

I thought I would know beauty, the pure and simple kind,

Instead, I watch decay in the petals of every flower.

I trace the lines of strangers and find them familiar,

And wonder if they too have borrowed someone else’s soul.

The night offers no comfort, the darkness is alive,

I close my eyes and still see what was never meant for me.

A borrowed vision, a stolen glimpse of living,

Leaves me trapped between worlds, awake in a borrowed skin.

I thought I wanted to see, truly see,

Now I pray for the blindness I once took for granted.

For in these eyes, I am both too much and not enough,

A witness to everything, yet belonging nowhere at all.

Take them, take them, take them, please,

Return my life to the darkness where I feel safe.