Facebook Short Poetry Series #11

It ends,
you know,
life.
It ends in ways we expect,
or don’t expect.
But it starts where it ends,
and ends where it starts,
and all the while we worry over it.
Over the chaos,
the boundaries,
which line to follow,
we worry,
and waste away the miles
between the start and the end.
We waste,
in shame, in regret, in hope
and envy those who risk
cutting the distance in half,
just for a moment.
the moment.
this moment,
where we stopped living
for ourselves, we forget.
we forget
how lonely it is at the end,
because the beginning was loud,
and bright,
and surrounded us with people,
we forget how lonely it can become
when we are too busy worrying for others,
and forget ourselves,
but it ends
in ways we refuse to acknowledge
for fear of being wrong in life
while right in death.
we forget.

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