Poem By Gulliver Gimble
Brown corrosion in forms of rust.
Penetrates the warmth of my watering eyes.
Cleaning a nail of distained trust.
Two pieces are lodged as particles fly.
Rubbing won't help this cursed situation.
Washing with eye drops are sure to burn.
One eye shuddered at hopes of incarnation.
What have I done to deserve this turn.
A day passed and the swelling did rise.
Bloodshot pupil, iris and face.
Red as the sun set and a crimson sky.
This rust has found its homely place.
The burning and itching was far too much.
An eye doctor will save my sight.
Under sleep I could not feel his touch.
Surely it was a restless fight.
The rust was removed and a patch remained.
Covering the wound so freshly set.
My sight so obscured and mind distained.
Something I am sure to never forget.
Protect your eyes as saftey comes first.
Don't count on your squinting to block the dust.
Objects are quinching for your eyes thirst.
I was nearly blinded by two pieces of rust.