Breath

Timeline

The clock's ticking, but I don't hear it,

Because my ears are full of screams no louder than whispers,

And in the beginning I thought you'd make the voices wither.

The wind is blowing, but I don't feel it,

Because when you try to go numb you eventually succeed,

And in the middle I begged you to give me back my senses.

But now it's the finale,

And the music's playing,

And the colors are blinding,

While the flowers are dying,

And the cold is overpowering,

Then I turn to my left and I realize,

I'm alone.

You're not there.

And I question whether or not you were only an illusion in the first place.

.

.

.

I met you at a very strange time in my life,

And all you did was make it stranger,

And by God, I swear,

You'll be the end of me.