By -CallMeLiam-
From ("The Blind Man and The Beggar")
Check out the other works of this poet!
WHEN I wake up in the morning,
I hear the bird's song.
Onto the cold, cold floor do my feet fall,
The strides kept short, not long.
Call me crazy,
But I see sound;
It leads me, it guides me,
It's all around.
I see what most
aren't able to see,
The beauty hidden
behind the scenes.
Within the walls,
Underneath our feet.
I speak, I hear,
I feel, I eat.
"Mommy, what's wrong with that man?"
So you don't know?
"Hurry by, don't stare, don't point!"
With my condition, I take things slow.
I take a walk down the street, stick and all,
Another man sings his song:
"Alms, alms for the poor"
But the rush of footfalls never relents.
When I buy things, if I ever do,
I have to ask for assistance.
Because others take advantage of this my condition,
I can only trust those who help.
What is color?
What's a hue?
I know black,
But what is blue?
Clatter, step.
I stumble over things I don't even know,
Squash, wet.
I step in things not worth mentioning.
Twist, pain.
People see this, and look away,
Fall, graze.
They take videos, they share a laugh.
Do you not think it hurts me?
Do you think I don't know?
Just because I'm silent,
Doesn't mean I'm for show.
I try to talk with others,
But they turn and look away.
Effectively shutting me up,
I just go my way.
Some people are kind enough to care,
They are friends I keep for so long.
But, in the eyes of most out there,
I'm just another blind man; life goes on.
Dedicated to -CallMeLiam-