Scintillating Scotoma

Opening my eyes to razor light,

A familiar scintilla emerges.

The dull pierce grows large,

And I must close my eyelids to leave,

This pain.

Stretching out to the horizon,

Then boomeranging back.

The evil throb wounds me,

Beyond the mercy of relief.

Choosing to open my eyes to such horror,

Has become habitual, addicting.

Despite the pain,

Plodding on and scratching the itch.

All around me,

Through this trial,

I see a multitude of others in pain.

Eyes open but not seeing.

Beholden to a holding pattern,

The fixed gaze remains unchanged.

No shelter from self-inflicted harm.

Living blindly without respite.

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