Gone, just like that, you're gone.
Like a pressure wind when a fast train passes by,
feeling like it takes away part of you.
The wind hits you, almost knocking you over.
Are all your worries gone now?
Now that you let go of my hand.
I feel the emptiness creeping in, the loneliness,
it's all coming and there's no way to stop it.
You're gone.
I feel myself getting smaller and smaller and smaller,
wasting away.
Gone, gone, gone.
No matter how many times I say those words over,
they'll still taste bitter, they'll still taste wrong.
But you're gone.
You're gone.
Gone.
//p.s.
