deepundergroundpoetry.com
Voyeur
They are driven by passion
Their eyes, feeding on the world.
Their passion of the flesh, burning within them. The passion for money. The passion for respect. Spoken like a true politician they whisper sweet nothings. They are animals. Attaining what they want. They are the rise.
They are the fall.
And I am but a voyeur.
I feel no passion.
Nothing eats at my mind.
Begging to be had.
Begging to be free.
I keep it all at bay.
Never to release.
Because I dread the day that I will have to face the inner beast.
Their eyes, feeding on the world.
Their passion of the flesh, burning within them. The passion for money. The passion for respect. Spoken like a true politician they whisper sweet nothings. They are animals. Attaining what they want. They are the rise.
They are the fall.
And I am but a voyeur.
I feel no passion.
Nothing eats at my mind.
Begging to be had.
Begging to be free.
I keep it all at bay.
Never to release.
Because I dread the day that I will have to face the inner beast.
Published 24th Jan 2016
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