73 lines
1.7 KiB
Plaintext
73 lines
1.7 KiB
Plaintext
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In The End Of Everything
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2022-04-21
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***
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I stepped outside during work today,
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hoping to take a sip of the clouds,
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because there was nothing else to do
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and inside was boiling,
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stifling,
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all headaches exhumed.
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Dismal sky
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and rain light
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on its way,
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my head cocked, listening
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to the wind, hoping to catch a word from you.
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A word, maybe, or a song, or a single note.
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Your voice always
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lifts me up from my lows
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and helps me down from my worst highs.
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And in this wind, I think, I could take flight
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without fear of being caught in a tornado
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or taken to lands foreign and unknown
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because I know
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all roads lead back to you.
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In this wind, in this shower,
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I could easily disappear.
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What if I was wrong all along
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and in reality Eris
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yearned for my silence
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and you gave me all my songs?
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Only recently
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having learned to read
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and literature never being your thing?
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Listening to the midnight trees
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scrape against my bedroom window
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the years of my childhood where you I did not know.
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I look back and angel numbers appear everywhere I go
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in everything I've ever done.
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How loud did you scream, Jett?
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How hard did you pound your fists?
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How long did you wait
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to see what I'd retained,
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what slivers of memory still did persist?
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The rain pounds harder outside the window,
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and if I'd still been standing on the sidewalk,
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my jacket would've long since been soaked through.
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An absence of birds
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making their curves
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along the canvas of the sky,
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just a not-even-gray as far as possible
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can see the eye.
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What I would give for the workday to be over
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and to be tucked safely in my bed,
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resting in the sturdy-yet-soft arms
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of my lover.
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To know
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tomorrow
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will be brighter,
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kinder,
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holding less harms.
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And the tornado comes,
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uninvited,
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and nothing more.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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