The Eye of the Man

I stumble through the doorway

and tremulously ascend the stairs,

always looking for tell-tale signs

of their presence in my supposed haven.

Can they see me? Are they watching now?

A suspicious portrait, grim and silent,

a bearded man who shall always be still,

yet keeps a vigilant watch over me

through the camera masked by his peering eye.

Can they sense my thoughts of rebellion?

Swiftly I flee to my bedroom,

slamming the door with a resounding bang.

Colorful posters plaster my walls,

transporting me back to a time of freedom.

Can they read the writing on my wall?

The notebook full of my rebellious thoughts

lies safely concealed beneath the floorboards.

I claw my way through the dust under the bed

to pry my voice loose from its confinement.

Can they follow me into my fortress?

Silently I pen a prayer for peace,

to be free of the Man and his ever-watchful eye,

for mankind to live in happiness as once we did

when free speech and thought were immutable.

Can they intercept and read my prayers?

I cannot protest the Man as once I did so freely.

I cannot speak or express my controversial views.

I cannot ever escape their vigilant gaze.

I am only safe inside my mind.

Will you elude the eye of the Man?