Eye To Eye

I don’t want to be looked at

Over the tops of glasses

To the sound of a pen

Scratching frantically on the pages

Of a notebook

My words analysed and scrutinised

But the way that I say them

All but ignored

 

I want to be listened to

Not just the words that I speak

But the feeling behind them

Without needing to compete

With the scratching of the pen

And I want to be looked at

Not as a subject

But as a person

Eye to eye

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