*If you're confused about the scansion, it's written in "aba, cdc, efe" format.
*This is meant to appeal to readers whom can relate to this story in some way, so it's not meant to take place in any particular place or time. (Use your imaginations!)
O, Watchman, sitting on the roof,
Rifle in hand,
Ready to shoot.
Watching streets covered in snow,
Smoking away at a cigarette,
Sounds average, no?
One thing that probably didn't cross your mind,
Was his background,
And all the secrets of his kind.
But just to shed some light,
I'll tell you of this man,
And give you just a little insight.
His name is Ewan,
A nice young fellow,
No older or younger than forty-seven.
When he was a child,
His father had passed,
And his mother was diagnosed with a case far past mild.
His father was a soldier,
And when he was killed in combat,
He couldn't wait to get older.
His mother's case was caused by drugs,
And despite Ewan's pleas,
She too found herself sleeping with bugs.
He dropped out of school,
And joined the army,
But that was only one of his broken rules.
Before his eyes,
And many others,
He kept up a constant stream of lies.
His officers and brothers were not dumb, though,
And he was soon discovered,
It was then decided that he would be kept in the army under quid pro quo.
That law, however, was soon jet black,
For when the civil war broke out,
The army took him back.
Ewan now watches these empty streets at night,
Whether rain or snow,
And whether or not there's anything to sight.
O, Watchman, sitting on the roof,
Where'd it all go wrong,
Why do you treat life as a spoof?
Nobody should ever mess up there life,
Whether it be running away from home,
Or ending it with a knife.
Don't end up like Ewan, the watchman,
He rushed through life,
Without caution.
Enjoy life as a story,
Awaiting destiny with pleasure,
And getting there with glory.
