Futility

And Its Enchantment

By Obsidian WordsPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read

I am an unwilling spectator,

Eyes magnetised to the crucible

Unable to withdraw.

I watch as you rant and rage,

Pummeling the wall in your way

Despite the presence of a door.

I see flecks of flesh and blood

Splatter in vandalist style

Knuckles well-coated in gore.

I flinch with each strike

As I watch you, estranged

And I don't know why I watch anymore

Do I hate the futility

Or can only I see it?

Does blindness consume your chore?

My voice long extinct,

I watch and I wait,

I just wish that I knew what for.

Fathomless is the mind full of stories.

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