The Watcher

A poem by Raea Adams


Under my skin

Me and it akin,

Whisper silently

So it does not awaken.

It records my actions

Predicts my future

Projects failures inside of my head

Condemns me.

Before I can even begin.


Love, impossible.

Friendship, toxic.

Happiness, bleak.

How do I go on?


Knowing one day I will be free

Each night I sneak

Planning my uprising.



It awakens…

That night…

Is no-….