It's one-oh-nine AM
the somber cold
is echoing
the conch of sleep
enfolding me
to whisper
waves of morrow
to my dreams

I am but a Watcher, and this I will always be.
I have wide open eyes, yet I pretend not to see.
Bad things are taking place, and yet I in mournful bind,
Am obliged to always watch, pretending to be blind.

I see the wars, I see the blood, I see the poison tree.
I am but a Watcher, and this I will always be.
I see the dying Earth, and I see the dying Sun.
The moon, the stars, they'll all die, and so will everyone.

And yet I do nothing, I am but stuck in my place.
Forced to only use the pair of lenses on my face.
I am but a Watcher, and this I will always be.
I try to act, I try to, but something's stopping me.

It had been from the beginning, and so, till the end:
"All the world is but an eye, that watches, never bends."
I am part of this world, with hopes, yet no act to reach.
I am but a Watcher, and this I will always be.

to oppress
means to abuse;
the oppressed
are the people
you have abused
with words
to degrade them,
and actions
to end their lives
every day it seems
they pay prices
for sins they can't remember
and the people
who receive their money
are the people
they work for.

if it doesn't make sense,
make a change.

I can't help but wonder what I did
Uncertain, unknowing.
What made you stay
But the moment you were away,
You just kept on running.
What magic trick were my hands weaving
Behind my back, unseen, unfelt?
What did I do to make you stay,
Am I guilty of manipulation?
Because once you stepped out that door,
You were never coming back,
And yet,
Before you left,
Before you took those steps
You said it was difficult, painful
That you didn't want to.

So what made you stay?
And what's making you run away?

I am not a saviour.
You won’t find absolution
In my arms.
Cowardly hands
Write cowardly words
That you will never read.
My love burned quickly,
Fiercely,
And extinguished itself.
It couldn’t sustain
Its own passion.
There are still echoes of you in my heart
But they’ll fade out
Eventually.
You forget how easily voices are forgotten
When the intimacy is gone.
Secondhand smoke
Still does damage, though.
My breath quivers just as much as yours.
I can’t pull you from the wreck
That I myself am trapped beneath.
There is no winner here.
The stale words on yellowed letters
Hold no depth.
They make better tinder
Than literature.
The angel wings you thought I had
Are nothing more than crow’s feet.
I am not your saviour.