Routine...

The trap awaits.
I stand by,
as they fall.
There's a distant echo.
From a height leaves slip,
twirling to the ground.

The night is fragile,
like a whisper never heard.
A trickle of rain against a branch in a lonely forrest. 

I'm the only one by myself,
though many more feel alone. 
At least I'm not pretending.

Twilight hangs in the sky,
waiting for my gaze,
as though its existence depends on people noticing.
Who depends on me?