Sitting there,
Almost unaware by all those around him.
He sits and watch’s.
Taking in all the laughs,
The false grin's,
Genuine smile's,
The uncomfortable hello's.
he sits,
Able to read expressions,
And situations.
Seeing all that can transpire from years past.
But for all this knowledge.
He just sits.
He never interacts,
Never lives the lives he see's that are being lived.
Living Vicariously through the people who pass him by.
Living his life watching,
But unfortunately not living his own life.
Marc Robinson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-watcher-7/
