Disturbed

April 17, 2008
By
He Watches them,
Eyes red,
As a stick of dynamite
Yet white,
As a flare.

Walking through the crowds,
Confident.
People
Surround him,
Unaware.

We walk in tangled lines,
Day to day
Like ghosts drifting from here to there
Carrying on pointless conversations,
We live
For now.

We can’t see it,
This man’s intent.
We are his puppets,
Prey,
Toys.
Under his transparent stare.

He thirsts for revenge
Never satisfied,
He continues
Lurking,
Waiting for his next victim.

He looks for details
Hidden
He does not kill those who deserve
To live,
Only those lacking will to live.

This small detail
Setting him aside from those willing to kill
Anyone.
He is not so
Cruel.

We think him,
A monster
Not like us,
When really, he
Is among us always.





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