Till the End

I quietly wait for the end.

The of end a sentence, the end of a song, the end of the day,
the end of the hour, the end of the dream, the end of this way.

The end of the cycle, the end of time,
the end of the mind, this peaceful end of mine.
I try to rush forward in hopes of meeting you sooner, but in the end I am denied.

Sadly someone selfishly wants me alive,
when all I want is for the quiet to arrive.

Dear End please hurry! Do not delay,
for I know when you come a new dream we can play.

Everyone whines and tells me I must stay,
they say its not right you coward you must remain this way.

“Oh dear me,” to them I wish to say,
“Does it confuse You, my silly way?”

“Oh no You’d rather see me cry, watch me bleed,
You’d rather see me suffer while you smile with glee.”

“Would it make You feel better if I had nothing give?
You’d ignorantly say “the poor should be grateful at least you still live.”

“Would rather see me become a shambled whore?”
“Of course,” You’d say, “because living means more.”

“Would You rather I turn violent, and cause great plight.”
You’d never admit but you’d rather I did so you could pretend to be justice and bring me to right.

“I am not your amusement, I am not your toy,
I am not your hope story, I am not your joy.”

“I am not your six o’clock news filling you with shock,
Im am not a killer for You to throw away key from lock.”

How selfish am I when I say I dont want to play,
Because You want me to make you feel something so You say Im not allowed to go away.

This life You love so much is only a dream,
And I want leave it before I am torn apart at the seam.

Dear End why do you hide, I’ve seen you before.
You came quickly for the one who played my mother years ago.

I was not sad to see her cold, lips turned blue, in coffin of stone.
I understood she was happier because in life she was always alone.

Her mother called her a whore, and her son called her the same.
I understood there was no one to blame, she grew tired of playing this game.

Dear End hurry and meet me tonight.
To dream a new fancy of flight.

Let those who love this dream remain,
For tis a new dream I fain.

I’m quietly waiting for the end.

The end of a jail sentence, the end of a sad song, the end of the long day, the end of the old hour, the end of this tedious dream, the end of this way.

The end of the old cycle, the end of time,
the end of the mind, this peaceful end of mine.