i am the only person with sight, in this strange land.

this is my story. these are my distorted rhymes.

everyone is blind, everyone but me
they touch, they smell
they savour, they think
but i can do faster and better 'cause i can see
yet i can't help, i notice
the impaired don't seem to mind
they don't have to worry about what they'll find
they don't know colour, not red, not green
they might not even know black, it seems
what goes on in their minds? what metaphors our sunlight?
do they even know what is sight?
if they see our world, so polluted, so sick
life is fading, burned down the candle wick
the sight of hungry, bony children
deserts and rubbish, in places of forests
the blood and deceased, the remnants of war
the legless, the armless, and the heartless dictators
if we could shut our eyes, block all this out
it must be better off to be blind
to not see, yet to know, appreciate what we have
yes the blind are fortunate, spared from life's wicked eye
being blind is not that bad after all
but i, with eyes, must suffer the actions of the seeing
in this blind land, yes, i will fall