|Blogs > rm_Bigboygrunt > My Poetry|
It is I who see's what hasn't come,
Visions ripe of a past to some.
Nothing slips by my twisted sights,
Sunshine days with haunting nights.
I see all and few see me,
With every thought it just cant be.
I am the Watcher and yes its true,
I watch the world with tempered hue.
Bewildered enemies not born yet,
The scene in which we act is set.
Lost souls cannot carry on,
Their bodies lost and minds are gone.
Dreams cast of my unlost lust,
Fill the bag of truth to bust.
With peacful slumber joy is found,
nightmares shatter as memories drown.
I am the Watcher and I do cry,
As those around pass me by,
Some fly high into the sky
and some stay burried scared with fear,
Knowing the ghost of hell is near.
But I stand by and I do cry,
For I am the Watcher and I cannot die.