4/12: “the end”

this is just like all the others;
you tell everyone that,
over and over again, every day,
and maybe you even tell yourself,
but you know that’s not true.

you remember flashes of color,
a hand grasping and falling from yours,
ocean rising up to meet you,
an entirely different world
than the one you’re expected to love.

then, pain, and so much of it,
so much your nose bleeds from remembering,
and a hand grasping for yours
but begging now for mercy,
mercy you just don’t have left to give.

this is the last of it,
so different from before and yet so the same;
the bodies are gone, but energy remains,
and you know this is a world-ender,
that there are more than lives at stake.

this is just like all the others;
you say that in the mirror
so you can stand to walk out of your house;
you know that, if you didn’t,
it means much worse than death.

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