The Watchmen


Goes the Watchmen clock


The Watchmen has found his prey, a man not beyond his years.

A man who still has many of years left to roam and play.


The Watchmen thinks not, as the cold clammy hand of the man who brings nothing but death, touches the prey's shoulders.

The light leaves the man face and leaves nothing but a shadow as does the moon when the sun leaves for the night.

The man wide eyed, looks to the heavens, without uttering a word, and lets the ground embrace him as an old friend.


Where the soul will end up that is up to the deeds of the deceased, the Watchmen gives no cares where it will end up. 

He gives no heed to remorse as he moves on to his next target.


In our world billions live, and 2 die in one second and 4 are born every second. Sometimes we must ask why or how are we not one.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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