The End

Are you sad that you are happy?

Have you ever known pain, hands in boiling oil.

Stupid laughs, idle conversation, who cares?

Keep running and never look back, we murderers are coming.

Not another mistake, honestly, winter is best.

Jim said “summers almost gone,”

but have we ever felt summer except in our minds,

unplug the videogame.

“Ha, the end, my only friend the end” he jeers.

Lesbians arguing in tents, “we don’t get on!”

More noise, nothing so ugly,

words of hate carried on the wind.

Burning tears cried, way too stoned.

Maybe they never got on.

Still, who cares?

Waves of silence, one, two, three, four, five,

the swell is coming and I can’t swim.

“Drown then.”

“No, I can’t die yet.”

“Suit yourself, fire it is.”

“But…”

It’s getting lighter now,

I don’t understand how I feel nothing.

New or old the story sold,

none so bold as to drink the cold.

So many share my dream.

The End.