Voyeur to heartache

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Voyeur to heartache 

I heard it from my apartment window,
     "oh I hate you, oh how I hate you"
and sobbing tears that bore upon the wind and
     fluttered like paper cuttings of dead trees
     forming the shallow graves of deadening dreams
and a sound of alarm within my soul
     before I realized that this was the world
     that stories like this are always told
     that nothing new enters, that nothing old leaves
and returning to my regular haze
     for there is no calm for the sane
     in a chaotic world, tragedy rules
     the center is on the outside and
     the outside in the middle and
     that is how it is, and was, and always shall be.
so says, this voyeur to heartache. 

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