When it ends, I'll be here telling you I knew it all along, but of course you won't listen and I'll sound crazy.
When we will finally rest, once and for all. When the pulse stops. When the lungs of the world close, when the final seconds are being counted down.
When I no longer have to worry about things not in my control.
When my compulsive tendencies will wither.
When I can be alone in whatever lays ahead in the winding path.
There are two roads. I'll take the one where I can be alone.
When we're done, when we know everything there is to know, then it ends.
When the burning rain stops in its tracks and I can squeeze into another universe and live somewhere undisturbed where my head isn't always hurting from the Earth's revolutions that I can feel, when the spinning stops, and we are still, is when it ends.
When I don't always ache and trip and fall because of the world trembling on an axis, twisting me around like a puppet on a string, when I don't always feel out of control, like I'm hooked into chains and sent flying in circles, spinning and hurting, when we finally stop, is when it's over and I'll rejoice. When the ending ends.
View User's Journal
My Chemical Imbalance
Hi. I'm lost. This is my journal.
 |
mychemicalimb4l4nce
Community Member |
User Comments: [2]
| ||||
|
User Comments: [2]