My world was a fleeting blur with several moons
I saw red everywhere, red even the whitest of cartoons
What was a black blanket in the night turned into a mirage of colourful dancing halos
Things too far I seldom could see
Whats in front seemed too good to be
The doc said I was old and it was my eyes
The lenses had turned into mere books of lies.
Heylo fellas! Well, since I’ve gotten back into the study mode, it’s only fair that I write something related to my subject once in a while.
Today, I sat down and read all about a thing called cataract. You must have heard about it. Let me give you a trailer of what it must be like for them. Take a mirror, smear your toothpaste on it. Can you still see yourself? Well, that’s similar to how cataract people see things. Not quite, but close enough.
Their lenses (the ones within the eye), which were supposed to be clear and crystalline get opacities and that makes things troublesome for them. This poem is a collection of many of the symptoms that they come to the doctors with.
Don’t worry, it’s completely curable.
Here’s hoping you liked the little work of creativity!