Tired Eyes

My fingerprints have been slashed

And so has my fate,

The wrinkled edges of my finger are battered

With the continuous scramble for words,

Reading empty sentences

At midnight and past,

I close all doors

Even creaking winter ones,

The sunshine nags my memory

And so does the potholed road,

But, all I see is a mirror

Today, tomorrow and the day after,

My eyes are too sunken,

Too ordinary,

Unable to bulge

And smear all with cavernous vacuum,

They refuse to see it all,

Instead recline and retreat into

Their secluded cove

Unused, yet tired!