Eyes. Often called mirrors to the soul. What do they tell? What secrets do they hold? Lies. Truth. All the gray misty areas in between. Everything, and yet nothing. Translucent to my fears. Opaque to my foes.
I often stare at mine. In the mirror. While passing windows. Every chance I get. I want to know, what hides behind those eyes? What have I hid away, so carefully crafted away, even from myself?
Slowly, some memories return. Etched painfully in the past. Returning to haunt the present and illuminate the future with overcast desperation.
To think, I once rejoiced in the day that I thought life was changing, when then nightmares would end. It was a new beginning. Reality had it though; it was merely an old start. Life reoccuring. I fell into their shoes. I should have seen I coming. I was too young. Too naive.
Cast aside, oblivious to my predicament, life shaped me. Used me. Tore me and bruised me. I had no fight. I knew not what I was fighting, nor what to fight for. Carried through on life's torrents. Even now, safety escapes me.
Can you see through the haze? Can you see through the torment? I don't expect you to. I don't believe you can. Reality screams at me that no one can. I push this false reality away.
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