I see a blind man gazing at the sun,
he thinks it’s alright to perceive the latent burn;
Crowded corpuscles enter his eye,
to blister the retina which was already in fry.
His vision is impaired, he sees nothing,
so he feels no difference in the new offering;
Alas! he closes his eye at the sunset,
to reflect on the heat and interpret;
he feels euphoric, he feels numb,
he feels the warmth at the tip of his thumb.
Albeit, he takes a deep breath and falls asleep,
he dreams through the night on an exuberant grief;
he wakes up in the morning to realize the past,
to feel the bloody cheek with a maroon cast.
He ponders again and again to know the real cause,
but his cerebra has gone to a comfortable pause.
Memory at loss and blood on his hand,
he feels the death, and can’t withstand.
Neither can he think nor can he blink,
he feels as a vessel destined to sink;
One last time he steps out of the door,
to gaze at the sun, with a strange furore.
One tiny ray hits his burnt eye,
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