The Laboratory of Eyes
Rows of blue, floating in glass,
nerve endings curled like dead roots.
No lids to close, no tears to shed—
just vision, raw and waiting.
The doctor moves between them,
white coat whispering at his heels.
He lifts a jar, turns it slow,
watches the eye watch back.
Some were stolen in sleep,
some torn from the heat of a scream.
Each one frozen in its last sight—
a splinter of moon, a knife’s dull glint,
a face that never saw them go.
The air is still. The doctor listens.
The eyes do not blink, do not weep,
but something in them remains—
watching him, watching everything.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
I love your laboratory! I watch everything all the time too! Like I watch you! Great work! Absolutely amazing.