i am part of the gate. cold hard rusted keeping the prisoner inside. i am just
an outline... disease starting down so deep eating its way out. this is where it
begins (secret captive sin) in a single rod of the iron gate rusted and no
longer serving its purpose i curve my posture, veil the reflections of
comprehension in eyes and breathe... and watch them participate in the movement
of the play while i am welded into the gate to watch them marching onward... i
am just an outline... travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a
The Watcher
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