Unseen

This is one of my earlier poems, written in 2007. I submit this to my account so others can compare to my current works.

What thing could this be
Wrapped tight in cold sheets?
It cringes at sights unseen
Grasping at ropes
Binding all glimmers of hopes
To a blink of an eye and a dream
Blind though it be
It can still somehow see
The most desolate wastelands inside
Within its cold gaze
Lies the questions it raised
About the life of its own that had lied

Encroached on its morals
The thoughts did arise
To demolish the painting
Of death of life
Create its own laws
That recourse did give pause
To cause the blinking of unseeing eyes