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Sep 2014
As I sit here in the sun
On a backyard's step  
Cigarette in left hand
Blowing clouds from my  
Rusty lungs  

The end comes
And it doesn't justify a thing
The end is just
Pure  m a d n e s s

To wake up one day
Whether the sun shows  
Its face  
Or the sky's all gray
And not feel
The love
The loss
The hopeless weight of  
Wanting what can't be touched
Is a true sadness
The weak wrap themselves in

The end is madness
Because the beginning  
Still exists
Rachel Bole
Written by
Rachel Bole  Midwest
(Midwest)   
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