Cataracts

My eyes have grown old
Not with age or the cold
But with my experience’s mold

Faded over and grey
I’ve only ever known one way
To wake up and face the day

The same neurons have always fired
Definitions long since expired
A fresh perspective must be acquired

Through mist in my sight I see something new
Figure approaching, eyes more crystal than blue
I implore with what sincerity I feel I once knew

“Teach me of what the word beautiful means. To you.”

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