A SINISTER SPECTACLE

 [eyes of a myopic boy expressing his agony

On a stroll, caressing  the morning waft, air so fresh and free,

A ritual now of healthy life, of heart, of whispered reverie,

Yet eyes stare upon me, sharp, assessing, tinted with scorn,

What marks me different? I oft wondered  adrift and worn.

 

I am the weight of his gaze, forever tether for all his gains,

An unseen, unsightly burden, yet vital as his sight wanes,

Without me, his world  blurred, mostly a distance unknown,

Myopia, a sinister affliction, his youth feels heavy, overgrown.

 

Born with a normal sight, gaze once small within normal range,

Rays of light in front of his foveae, brand him in myopic range,

Spectacles can’t  speak, let his eyes share  his woes, I am told,

In his teens, we stretched, his sight gradually failed many fold,

 

Lenses or contacts or lasers relieved his agony nevertheless

Pathological, they name and blame us, helpless and hopeless,

We stop our warp after eighteen, sometimes not so pleasant,

Overstretch, he feels now, precociously as a sinister variant.

 

We warped in excess, awkwardly, denting all his residual sight,

Jelly inside distorts, plagued by nasty floaters day and night,

Silent bleeds  block his sight, visual assault, his innate fears,

Our walls now weak, injury prone, betray him with aging years,

 

Stretches  worsen, tears, a feast of decay, a sight in distress,

Degenerations set in, Retinal lesions marked and oppress,

Suspended  in uncertainty, sight in peril, lenses fail to correct,

Worries  grow deep, his world in quiet descent and forever lost.