Escape

Hide it.

Not your bruises, not your tears —
hide the eye that never sleeps.

Tuck it quiet in the closet's dark,
between the winter coat
and the shoes you never wear.
Press the button,
let it watch without blinking.

You’ve swallowed enough silence.
Now let the lens speak
with a tongue he can't strangle.

This isn't betrayal.
This is survival.
A key,
an exit,
made of silicon,
glass and light.

In the morning you'll press play
for someone who matters —
and that quiet little eye

will roar with truth.