Over and over

10, 20, 30 - times

Reading, thinking

Wondering the place

that spurs this

Wrong here?

Is that my what?

Being Read?

Nobody dictates it

Don't intake it --

that's what I should think,

sometimes is

Then I see, Analyze

this seems odd,

and this

Do they twist, swift, swap?

Is this grown

from outside soil?

Is this how they see?

broken pieces? Some missing

Why continue?

Some suggest no miss,

hollow wishes not missed

Stumble, trip, fall

Regret the one -

yet its placement matters

No room to fill -

Rather a pocket

I give my eyes,

they wear them

with a self-made cleaner

A cleaner that works

if it's their eyes,

not mine

They think

with their eyes

with their cleaner

They think

what my eyes see

With their ears

I don't have a self-made cleaner

I'm not skilled

I ask for their cleaner

I think with their eyes

But sometimes their eyes don't fully connect

And sometimes a smear still happens

sometimes

After it all,

I continue to Read, think

how did I see this?

Is there something I'm missing?

Is there something different?

Yet some don't consider,

what's missing,

what's different

Why words that seem harmless

hurt more than they seem

because they continue

to see with their eyes

to see with their ears

to hear with their thoughts

Who is I? Which sides?