Olly Olly Oxen Free

What the hell did I just write and why the hell is the reader involved? I don't have a reason for writing this other than to write. You come up with YOUR interpretation.

"Olly olly oxen free, for the tides have changed in my favor,"

The blind, old man says in such a bitter voice, yet his emotions spanning all different flavors 

Sweetness for the joy, sour for the bitterness and despair, salty for the unprecedented rage 

"Pity I had to win by sheer luck, for this is your story, not mine...

And yes... Mine is to come to an end rather sooner than yours

We've been on the chase for what seems like years now," 

He looks to the sky, a dark remnant of his younger days 

"It's quite funny that I, a blind man, an old man, could be the death of you

Does it not strike you as curious? Or even remotely peculiar?"

And in these moments of rambling on, he is striked down quicker than a knife cuts through soft clay 

His time was to come so soon anyways, but perhaps it is a rather sly, conniving move 

A sly, conniving move to kill a man who is at his most vulnerable 

Contemplating and thinking and expressing his thought and feelings in so many different flavors 

And so out of guilt, you shall take on the role of the blind, old man 

Gouge out your eyes, go on a hunt for the nearest person, and span what seems like eternity 

Evermore as if you've aged millenia searching for the person 

Evermore as if you've spilled your emotions on the floor 

Evermore 

Ever 

For

...

Author's Note

Feedback appreciated for the disconnected oddity that is this prose poem! No, I do not even understand it myself. Why I wrote this or anything.