Writers 
He sits where light has never been,
He has no eyes, yet he watches.
From corners, from ceilings, from inside your skull.
He watches all the world pass by,
but never what the world could be.
He watched her love, he watched her leave,
he watched his youth dissolve in the rain.
He watched his prayers go unanswered,
and called the silence his own pain.
He watched you pray with bloody knees,
heard every lie you told in the dark.
He watched you beg to be loved,
and watched you rot from the heart.
He watches graves, he watches stars,
he watches people love and heal.
He watches life happen to others,
too blind to know how to feel.
He is the one who watches you sleep
when you think no one is there.
He counts the cracks in your sanity,
and pretends to care.
You cannot kill the blind watcher,
for he is not outside.
He lives behind your eyes,
in the place where you hide.
He has watched you die every day
since the day you were born.
And when you finally go,
he will be the one to mourn....not because you are gone,
but because there is nothing left to watch.
