I say I’m a thing of endings but really I cling to that past like drowning
Like desire
I can’t seem to find an end
Maybe I’m looking to hard
Maybe I’ve never been a catalyst for an end
Others have been breaking and changing me
Mostly by their absence for so long
That when I try to end
Instead I see all the beautiful pieces of bow
And despair
I know theres a beginning
But I’m so tired
I wish I could rest