There's a place under my eyelids
where strangers like to drive their cars.
When I was ten,
I decided that their headlights were too bright
and when I saw flashes coming across my cheekbones
I shut my eyes as tight as I could
to keep them out.
So they brought tiny cranes and winches
and megaphones that they turned up and up
until I could only hear their cries.
"Open your eyes, or we will open them for you."
When I refused,
they shook their heads
and pulled me open by my eyelashes.
I haven't closed my eyes since,
and I've become accustomed to the lights.
But when I look in the mirror
and see the streets they paved in my veins,
the shopping malls sprawled across my chest,
I wish I had the courage to brush them away
and live on my own again.
Gender:
Points: 3563
Reviews: 109