The Eyes Have It – a poem


All the preparations and anodynes

Roll in random routes, realised

In the external checks, averred

By other eyes, keener than those too



The eyes have it, electric amber

Golden gooey, flecked metallic iris

Indicator of dead habit terminators,

Those pools of tears unshed, no checks



We prepare to fail, yet the iris

Rotates, locking in targets tried

Still not tired, usable in need,

Preparations rendered pointless;

The ayes have it:



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