We are the watchers

We see but never speak, we hear but never act.

We see the signs, we read the cardboard pleas, we see the broken faces, but we do not outstretch our hands.

We have seen the worst of mankind, when he thinks he is alone and safe.

We have seen the stains he washes from his palms, we have seen the drain.

We have seen the tissue caught between his teeth.

We watch and we see.

We are awake, exhausted from the insomnia of our vigil.

We stand, trembling at the emotion that boils out of our souls.

We have begged, in silence, for our eyes to be closed, once more.

We have torn our hair from our scalp, our skin from our bones, in the agony the truth brings.

We long for the sweet silence of ignorance, the dull haze of overdose on oblivion.

We have sought for the peace we once thought existed.

The moments before we doubted, before we knew.

Before we knew the truth.

Before we saw the truth.

Truth, we were told, would set us free.

Our chains would be broken and we would walk in green pastures.

But the land has been paved over and the chains are still here.

They just belong to someone else.

How could we have walked away? How could we let those not strong enough carry them on their own?

We are awake, and the dream never ends.

The insomnia, the endless moving forward, the endless night.

We are lost as we hold the map, we are drowning as we hold the boat.

We are broken.
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