The Viewer's Words

I haven't done any more work on my novel since my last post (well it wasn't very long ago), but to keep myself and my one known reader interested, here is a poem I wrote at a time when my friend was in despair. The Viewer's Words Her sanity, her salvation Rests within her hands. Her hourglass of time on this planet Is running fast and hard. She can see the flurry of its sands. Her pale, sombre skin Rests flat on her face. No trace of a smile can be seen. No hint of laughter in her eyes And still the hourglass keeps its pace. No love has been returned By those she gave hers to. 'What you give you will receive' Has turned out to be untrue And the reason for that look is that she don't know what to do. Only she knew what went on Behind her solemn eyes. I think she's waiting for the execution, She's looking to the skies, But her guardian angel has not yet arrived. What really happens in her head She's written down in words, And I, as the viewer have read those words And made a discovery no one else foresaw, Not her friends or the fish or the birds. Her world created in her mind, Her only place to hide, Her only friends, the only fish, The only guardian angel and birds. And this is where they reside. She gave life a chance, It failed her clarity. So now she retreats in a fantasy, A world real to no one but her, And she laughs at her world because she can't laugh at reality.