In my loveliest dreams, I can see colors and shapes like I used to do, when my pop was still around and my mom was alive. There are two things that I remember seeing very vividly before the mean man across the lake wanted my dad's money, and boy was that man angry, shouting mean names as he gutted my mama like a bass from when we used to go fishing. I miss mama, I also miss the sight the mean man took from me too, and all I was trying to do was stand up to the bully like mama always taught me to do.

I miss my sight, I see only in my dreams.