The Red Eye of Man:

I. The Birth of the Flame

Red eyes,

like embers of a dying fire,

born from the salt-laced rivers of despair.

Not born, but forged —

in fire and flood, in silence and screams,

a wound that remembers light.

A quarrel sharp as shattered glass,

etched on the soul, too deep to pass.

Was it marriage — a sacred bond now frayed,

or finances, dreams meticulously betrayed?

Perhaps betrayal, a serpent in the grass,

or torture, a shadow none can bypass.

Some wounds, alas, by evil tongues are bought —

poisoned whispers, carefully wrought.

Words cut deeper than any blade,

and leave the gaze forever stained.

II. The Burning Within

Then come the crimson tides,

from bottles deeply drawn —

a fiery solace, from dusk till dawn.

In anger’s grip, a storm in the brain,

or drunken frenzy to forget the pain.

Each gulp, a silent, desperate plea

to drown the demons — to simply be free.

But clarity recedes like a ship lost at sea,

and deeper shadows rise

where light used to be.

Red is the eye — not always from tears,

but from all the things we cage in years.

III. Desire’s Cruel Reflection

And still,

those eyes ablaze with raw desire,

a primal gleam, fueled by lust’s own fire.

They shine — a beacon in the shadowed night,

devouring all within their hungry light.

A gaze that strips, consumes, commands,

never asking, never kind.

Desire without tenderness.

Passion without pause.

Red eyes in the night

with no moral cause.

IV. The Face of Violence

When terror's mask distorts the human face,

and kindness, mercy, leave no trace,

the Red Eye grows —

a godless flame,

a predator’s stare,

a silent claim.

It does not tremble when others fall.

It watches. It waits. It knows it all.

In cruelty’s name, the eyes go red —

not in shame, but in what’s left unsaid.

V. The Chasing Red Eye

It begins as a flicker,

a whisper in sleep.

Then it follows. It hunts.

It burrows deep.

You walk — it walks.

You run — it flies.

You blink — it's there

behind your eyes.

It wears your voice.

It knows your fear.

It is the mirror

that won’t disappear.

You drink, it drinks.

You love, it stares.

You forget — but it remembers

everywhere.

It takes the shape of dreams —

a red moon,

a hallway,

a child’s scream.

It knocks in your silence.

It drips from your guilt.

It waits at the edge

of everything you've built.

You cannot kill it —

it was never born.

You fed it each time

you looked with scorn.

Each time you struck.

Each time you lied.

Each time your silence

let someone die.

And so it chases,

not just to condemn —

but to show

what lives

inside of men.

VI. The Final Gaze

Man’s Red Eye —

is not one wound.

It is many.

It is anger dressed as justice.

It is silence used to harm.

It is seduction soaked in violence.

It is ego cloaked in charm.

It is the flame behind the smile,

the ghost behind the touch.

It is the eye that watches all,

and never blinks too much.

So beware the eye —

it lives in me, in you.

And when we forget

what grace can do,

the red eye grows

and walks anew.

VII. A Warning for the Reader

You’ve read these words —
you know them now.
But be careful where your thoughts allow.

Because when the Red Eye finds your gaze,
it doesn’t leave for nights or days.

So if your eyes begin to burn,
and shadows twitch where you once turned —
remember this:
it came through rhyme.
It lives inside
the lines, the time.

And if, tonight, you cannot sleep…
don’t blame the dark —
the eye runs deep.