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Poem

Crystal clear streaks,
await on my empty window pane,
for someone to come and look through,
but the duty is mine,
to watch what the world hides
and keeps out of plain sight.

i take my seat,
on the side of dark,
where no one can see that i watch,
a pen in hand,
i write swiftly away,
the miseries i take into acount.

A girl i see first,
a smile about,
but through her,
i know what is wrong,
her eyes do not smile,
like the rest of her,
the cuts on her wrists,
only go to show.

as my eyes move about,
next a young boy,
weighed down,
by the weight of his life,
i pity his soul,
for i only know,
he is beaten,
for he is not smart.

over the street,
stands an old man,
tears dried over his face,
his mind is sleepy,
and ready to die,
for that ring
in his hands
only tells me,
the funeral of another,
has just began.

over a bit,
but not seeming as sad,
is the face of my old friend,
the veteran,
a war is his enemy,
terrified and scarred,
he watches our world,
but cant comprehend,
how did we ever forget.

down the block,
but still in the dark,
stands the profile,
of a widow,
she lost him long ago,
when they were 26,
blood in her arms,
and a missing heart.

the final person in my window,
is me,
lost in this world,
were death is all i see,
studying to hard,
in what shouldnt be,
but truth be told,
i like to be alone.

happy isnt for anyone,
for happy is a dream,
but in my world,
depressing,
is the definition of reality,
so by my window,
i sit and stay,
in hopes my feelings,
turn to apathy,
for this melancholy window,
says good musnt be.

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