The Boy With Seeing Eyes

There is a boy with gold-flecked eyes
Who sits and stares and listens
To bits and pieces of conversation
Not intended for his young ears.
He hears it all,
Watches plans unfold,
With shining, silent eyes.
He knows, deep down, what's happening,
And it shatters me inside.

Only when we are alone
Does he let loose just what he knows.
No tears come, just solid words--
Tempered, frozen steel.
His gaze never wavers,
Lips never twitch,
Voice stays steady and calm.
He isn't supposed to know this,
What goes on behind closed doors,
But he does and it just ruins me
To hear this little boy.

He will tell it like it is,
No reserves, no holding back.
But when it really matters most
He bites his knowing tongue.
He observes and learns from the very best
What he is and is not to do.
Then he takes it for his very own
To help his younger kin.
Selfless and proud he shares his Sight,
But only to others who know
What is happening inside that house,
Behind those golden doors.

So young, and yet so much insight
Wisdom beyond his years.
To only two he tells the tales
Of what he knows is right.
Try as I might to keep the peace,
The truth is clear as day;
The boy and I secretly agree
About all that he hides.
In a single look, you see his view
Of this daily life.
Side comments and sarcasm hide the pain,
The reality nobody likes.

The boy with Seeing Eyes
Is not older than you and I.
He is just one who knows inside,
What people are truly like.