The Prophet

They see you but they don't heed you
They hear you but they don't listen
They know you but don't understand you
They all think you will go soon

They look at you and see sorrow
Hear you but listen to their fears
Some even understand you but are clouded by doubt
They all know you'll go soon

Why do you just stand there day after day
Why don't you just break and run
You're not a hero and you have not a friend
Everyone knows that one day you must go

Everybody has to see you
Everybody is forced to hear you
But you can't make them listen
You can't make them look
You can't make them think and understand

Their fear consumes them
Their thought destroyed
You cannot save them
Alone you cannot hope to survive

They have to learn for themselves
And you have to learn that they have their own hopes
They have to think for themselves
They don't want your philosophy
I think they have made that abundantly clear
And with all their threatening looks why do you not fear?

I wasn't sure what to do with this poem for ages - I couldn't work out who it was I was describing. In the end I've decided they must be like one of the Old Testiment prophets, hence this poem's new title. (I'd just left it Untitled before I started pulling individual poems back up for catagorisation to build this website.)
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