When watchers vacate

When get away is no longer escape and faded shades of blue turn into gray, the watchers shall wait, in turn of rage, a place to vacate is a place to then recreate, in fear of hiding in secrect space, may the time not be so late. As lovers awaited fate, many shall wonder as fear is never safe. A filled day with many flowers to touch and soft skin to violate, may always sway the intuition of a man so distant. A world so creative, a life lost to illness with some hope of adventure, a meaningful message went back to the original sender. A secrect fate with no turn for deliver, unless shown beside waited wants, that evenness that needs no other, no driver, no gambler,  just insane virtue.  A need to be free, when a darkness that follows, freedom never shows unless had purchase value. A wait on provider, a feeling of broken, loser, destroyer. Meant nothing more than a life searched out for nowhere, a dream that will always continue on a road never traveled.