Watch
just another poem
Slowly I walk, with tired eyes watching the shell of the world.
I hear the laughter and know it's only fleeting, I see the life and in a glimpse watch all that they know turn to ash.
Is this my cure to see, to feel? To know the endless horrors of the world.
I walk this waking nightmare never seizing to end the pain and lamentations of my waking world.
My only freedom is death, yet it never comes, passing over me as you would pass over an unwanted trinket.
So I sit, and wait, and I watch the spiraling endless lies that those who like foresight refuse to see.
There is no peace, there is no joy.
There is nothing more the ever moving ever changing chaos that grips the stars.
We are but a speck with nothing more to show then our indifference.
Can we ever be said to truly be alive?