The Observer

Created by Falkenad on Friday, March 17, 2006

Here's another poem, on the next page
Ready?
Fate is an unjust judge
While few stand on the podium
Most are dealt a losing hand
While they flaunt their gold, silver, and bronze
I stand aside
The Observer
Memories frozen in time
Walking through the halls of old
The only thing that does not stand still
Is I
Even in the present
I am left to my own devices
The cup of belonging is passed to me
Only to fall through invisible hands
I can't put it back together again
I call out their names
But they cannot hear me, the living past
Although I do my best to pour my living for others
Not a soul is moved
To my direction

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