Eyes of transit

I have too many eyes
not to look.

Some are fixed
on what broke me.
Others barely hold
this burning present.

Tears cloud
what is to come.
There is no promise,
no hope.

Only this knot,
this mud,
this hole where I breathe
as best I can.

My soul knows
that change hurts
more than staying still.

And yet,
I leap into the void.

Not because I believe,
but because I can no longer continue
dragging myself along in this skin.

If I must die,
let it be burning.
If I must be reborn,
let it not recognize me.