Are we here at the end?
Is this the beginning of the imminent end?
Have we arrived to our last seconds,
last hours to smile, hope and dream?
Has everything gone mad?
Or are horrible things happening louder?
Are good things just moving quieter
to silence everyone’s trivial matters?
How lucky are those who had lived
accomplishing most of their lives.
Those last ones to enjoy, wander and thrive.
How does 25 feel when you don’t get to feel all these?
How does a 9 year old feel just mindlessly running outdoors?
Maybe it’s the grief, the pain and death
that make us want to move, try and believe.
Maybe it’s just the love, wants and needs
that strengthen us as we bleed.
I feel like there are no real answers.
We are just to wake up each day with
anticipation that all things come to end.
Everyone tells us to make the most of life.
Also, life has proven it’s not for everyone.