Is it me?

But is it me who can see or is it me who is blind?

For I see better what is unseen than that which is seen.

Is it me who is without feeling? 

Numb to objectivity and awaken to subjectivity. 

We are all blind in a world full of eyes. Captured in a land bland with lies...

hiding the beauty of truth in the open vicinity of the humankind. 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

Comments

Pollock12

I found this scholarship on PowerPoetry.org.

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