What I see - a poem

I have stepped out of my body and what do I see?

I look through the eyes of those that view me.

I see,

this old woman with dark circles peering with deformities,

a blob of skin sagging, overlapping and tilting a posture,

salt and pepper sprinkled in the hair that is wild like the wind it fosters,

an object of no use to the gene pool of life,

a person who very seldom sees sun the light,

an object dark in stature,

an object afraid of the here and after,

I look through the eyes of those that view me.

I see,

this old woman singularly,

a person excluded from main stream society,

a mass of exclusion for simple propriety,

a wanton excuse of humanity,

an ogre that may live on the streets,

the very essence of sadness and not understanding why,

a woman who doesn’t want to die.

When I look through their eyes what do I see?

I see nothing because I am looking at me.

The definitions of what I see is a disappointment and I have become a burden to thee.

For when I look in the mirror and not through anyone’s eyes I see me.

I often feel my family doesn’t wants me not, for I am alone in a world of strangers.

O, but I am being punished—

I will sleep and wake another day, hoping what I see is not looking at me.