The Watcher - Crisis

I am part of the gate

Cold hard rusted keeping the prisoner inside

I am just an outline…

Disease starting down so deep

Eating its way out

This is where it begins (secret captive sin)

In a single rod of the iron gate

Rusted and no longer serving its purpose

I curve my posture, veil the reflections of comprehension in eyes and breathe…

And watch them participate in the movement of the play

While I am welded into the gate to watch them marching onward…

I am just an outline…

Travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward

Travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward

Searing in this I die, in the openness of wound…

I am part of the gate.

I am cold, I am rusted

I am the prisoner inside