Blindly Offensive

I can feel them peering down on me;
Those open eyes in the skies,
And I'll weep when their curtain falls
In the midst of life's induced cries.

To what do I owe
This regression of perfection's gaze?
To whom do I bestow
The fault laiden in these blinded days?

A contempt bellows deep inside
In the absense of that peer.
I've often wondered whom I've offended;
Shadowed in introspective fear.

Stemmed from thine own
The shudders of fault burden me,
And unluckily these eyes never close,
Never blink--they always see.

When the sky wakes up
And looks on me unquestionably,
Clarity reigns, realizations sustained--
The person I've offended, is me.