There are those who watch in wait, for the doer to make their mistake.
The watchers eyes gleefully widen, when they see failure creeping up behind them.
Sneers and cheers in lurking, hands rubbing together until their palms are burning.
The watcher gathers the minds they’ve awoken, pointing down at the doers work convincing them it’s broken.
The doer jittered, confidence perhaps shook, from the watchers lurking in their nook.
Daggers in the doers back, wishing failure keeps its track.
Persuading others there’s no need to grow. The watcher bleating I told you so.
Yet when the doers brush their hands free from dirt, take aid to help recover from labours hurt.
Take water to help quench one’s thirst, and then a moment to study their work.
They embrace mistakes and grow from the knowledge gained, while the watchers cunningly slip away.
In lurking until the very next forever, to watch the doers undoubtable errors.
Just to say I told you so, more poison seeping into their soul.
Do not watch the doer for you’ll never know, that doing will always help you grow.
And the next time you lay down your doing tools, smile back at the watchers tower… riddled with fools.