The Watchers

On one clearest of nights, I compelled to a-walking,

the nightly winds whipping my face,

The streets were lined with anonymous Watchers

just standing there, watching the place.


I turned the first bend and alas! A poor lad,

the shabbiest of clothes did the young beggar clad;

He reached to the Watchers, begging compassion -

but the Watchers just stood there a-watching.



The next bend brought worse than the first, and alas!

Another poor fellow run down by a cab

Bleeding life through his mouth, no doubt from the clout

The carnivorous Watchers stood fast, numbly watching.



The third bend brought horror unmatched by the latter

An infant, wailing and clutching its mother

The mother was still, and then with a shudder

It dawned that the poor girl had passed.

By her left side lay evidence of deadly infliction

Her doing, no doubt, from the depths of addiction;

And the poor infant cried for its mother who died

the despicable Watchers all stood there, just watching.


As I came to the last bend, I noticed a sign

It read "Watchers, Beware: The Truth You Will Find" -

As I rounded the corner, 'twas naught but a mirror,

The reflection inside it could not have been clearer;

Alas! It was me, the horrified Walker

I had lent no help either, I too was a Watcher.


Take care, fellow man, for we all are inclined

to be sheep of the flock, the Watchers, the blind.