The Observer

I see nothing.

I know nothing.

I am the observer, seated in the background

Forever meant to stay there.

 

What's this? A word, you speak

To me and I listen. But speak?

Nay. It's not my job.

I see nothing.

I know nothing.

I am the observer.

 

You speak again, now oft a conversation

We have. And yet you do not look

To me as if for answer. Simply for an ear.

A shoulder to cry on. Help?

Nay, it's not my job as the observer.

 

We are friends now, you and I.

We walk and we talk and I am allowed

Response in your direction.

Time goes on and things progress.

I am speaking first this time.

And you have no answer.

This truth behold, for I have no answer

But more questions.

 

But now things revert, and I am

Once again on the outside.

Once again in the background.

Nay, not 'once again,' for it has always been.

I will always be

The observer.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741