The Stairs Have Eyes

They told me to watch my step, the people, the shadows that brought me here-

(wherever here may be)

They told me to keep my eyes down or shut, that the stairs have eyes-

that someone I knew-

(something faking their eyes)

was watching me from the staircase.

It's funny in a way- the stairs go down, leading up to me,

but they remind me of my first home, carpetted and steep as I listen to the waves smash,

over and over and over against the wall of this cave,

I know I am not home.

I know these stairs so well though- these are where my siblings came from-

where my parents carried their infant selves up to our rooms.

This spot where I type- this is where I heard my parents fight.

Even as I stand here, waiting for something- for anything

I hear my history echoing from the bottom of the stairs.

I can feel the eyes blinking at my from the wall- from the railing.

but maybe I can peek- just for a second

I can look- I just need to make sure they aren't there waiting for me at the bottom.

I just need to look- just one second.

I won't be long