Watcher's Blood

Well just another poem I made.

The blood of the one who handles the dreamers
It flows with dark colors and sizzles when touched
It eats up the screamers, redeemers and schemers
It freezes and boils and thickens with lust

The blood of the one who handles the lovers
It pumps with crisp rhythm and gets faster with haste
The master who uncovers, discovers, recovers
Pooling in the center and turning to paste

The blood of the one who handles the workers
Thin and fast with no room to stop
Pitiable eyes, just disappearing onlookers
Doomed dreams of a chance on the top

The blood of the one who handles the haters
Is thick, unforgiving and coated in salt
Not even a glance with beloved betrayers
Completely stiff from the beginning default

The blood of the one handles the dead
Never runs or pumps and turns rotting black
One who misleads yet is also misled
Inevitable plague, won't ever look back