Tell me

Writings to Heaven

Tell me why all things that start,
cease to exist as they were,
whether good or bad were the purposes,
meaningful or meaningless they were,

Tell me there is a reason,
for why I see the end?
not far away,not close,
ghosting itself in.

Tell me that I am wrong,
that the end would not be bright,
like dark shadows that hover around,
and scare me with their sight.

Tell me it’s all a dream,
and it would break someday,
and I would be happy for what I want,
someday but not today.

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