On-Looker *

 
A moment in time, of dread, wherein
reality exceeds the low boundaries of
imagination;
Wherein the beauty of the luminous red
moon becomes nothing more than a
rusted coin hanging in the night sky,
And the perculiar scent of fresh roses is
just as ignored as the odour of a familiar smell.
When the soul is weary and the mind is
too weak to think,
When seconds float like butterflies in the air
to be counted,
When life sucks the juices out of  sadness
and happiness alike;
Then you're left with a will so weak it
cannot stand you up.
And you are left sitting there like a
homeless child, doing nothing
...

Just looking on