“Time, is running out, for all of us?” Gun Roswell 

Life, down the drain it goes

Always saying, maybe tomorrow

But that, never happens in time

Waisting time, seems to be just fine

Always the onlooker, never the one with life

Never taking, never giving 

Around myself only spinning 

Frozen, in a box, which never unlocks 

Watching, other people’s accomplishments

Peeping, at their special moments

Feeling the burn and torment 

Trying to shout, but nothing ever comes out

Is this life or purgatory

Or just another wasted story

Nothing gained no glory 

Only strife and continued worry

Looking out from my grey box

Hoping a colourful rainbow to spot 

Wishing for a tiny drop

Instead of a thundery storm