Their Eyes Are Watching


Dark brown eyes with a personality that brightens any gloomy situation

No one can pronounce the name but remembers the face and the smile

Such a great friend, so smart, always positive and seem to walk on sunshine

With such a “heart of gold” and such a joy to work with

They stand or sit, think and wonder

How could anyone like that every feel that type of way?


Sitting in the dark for hours forcing the tears to stay in

Saying that tears are avoidable and a sign of weakness

That smile turns into a quivering lip as if hypothermia has just set in

No one has time for pain and caring about life’s challenges

No one has time to ask for help or to accept a helping hand

No one truly cares about what lies in the future


Their eyes pierce through the skin as if they are searching for imperfections

Their smiles are keeping in the negative remarks

They’re bashing those they don’t understand

They only care for their own reality not considering others

Their eyes are watching every step that is taken

They watch and observe yet do nothing to assist

They make sure their two cents is always heard as if it was law


When the road hits a dead end and the cup of tears overflows

Who is left to call out to when it feels as if your mouth is wired shut and the room is padded

Calling on HIS Name seems to do nothing but brings out tears and annoyance

The one-word responses seem to be a tease and a pain at the same time

Patience is a virtue He tells me so just wait for my signal

Stubbornness is what I embody

Wait, Listen, Stand, Ask, DEPEND ON ME

Yet the flesh takes it upon itself to act before receiving all instructions

Words are just words when understanding is vague


Their eyes watch but they do not take time to sit and help

Religion is forced in faces because they think its right by their standards

You need to know and love the Lord because that’s what they say is right

How DARE they throw something on someone they don’t take the time to understand?

How DARE they shove a belief in someone face because they think it is right?

Hypocrisy runs through their veins and is shown in their actions

But their eyes are watching others’ movements as if they are the saints of the world

Their eyes pierce through the soul judging every mood

But what will those same watchful eyes have to say

When the individuals they’re watching loses all hope and faith in not only themselves

But in their religion, in God, and in life itself


But who will ever question the enticing smile and the everlasting laughter?

Who would dare try to break the walls put up around their heart?

Will they watch for guidance to help an undercover hopelessness?

Or will they continue to watch for the imperfections and flaws of those around them

When will the eyes stop watching and the hands do something?

When will the voices assure that tears are okay to flow?

And that you must go through a lot to obtain knowledge?


The Eyes Are Watching

This heart is waiting and curious

Which way should everything go?

How everything should be handled

The beginning of an internal war

Contemplating which voice should be listened to

Good or evil?

Await an answer or take matters into one’s own hands

Flesh or spirituality?

The battle continues and the faith diminishes

Who will be the one to stop watching?

And start helping clarify a misunderstanding of what living like Him should be like

But at the same time

How can one expect a helping hand when those eyes

Belong to those who don’t even live by the truth


What choice does anyone have to escape from their eyes?

Running from the problems is not an option

Because their eyes are everywhere

No one understands even when they make the attempt

But how can you get someone to truly listen


Maybe masking the emotion as a work of art

One that flows with such ease but is deeper than it appears

It scrapes the surface and sinks down to the floor of the pool of thoughts

It will make them stand or sit, think and wonder

They will listen not to the volume of screams for help

But to the tone of the outward cry on paper


All along it was an escape from their eyes

One that not only was taught but was helpful beyond belief

The flesh speaks out but so does the spirit

Poetry transform into a prayer

Prayers convert into a testimony

Testimony is the truth they’re eyes always saw

But never understood until now


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