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I’m looking at all the things you’ve done:
The unexpected turns and awkward silence.
How will you know it’s time to run?
Don’t worry. I’ll turn on the sirens.
We cannot tell — what lies in this?
We rise and fall straight to abyss.
The world is holding onto crutches,
While we are standing here and watching
The things we think we’ll never miss.

Unfinished stories hunt us down,
Like eyes of those who aren’t around.
Their voices bounce against the wall,
What do we do? Do we grow tall
Or simply wait till we are found?

The world is biting its own neck,
There’s nothing more to it than wreck
In aching souls of those who fight.
When we look up, we see the light —
So bright, it takes us all aback.

While we are numb, we capture this —
The world on crutches in abyss
And voices that keep coming through.
But we retreat — that’s what we do,
We don’t grow tall. We are dismissed.

The world is taking deadly aim —
It thinks that we won’t stay the same,
That we will tidy up the mess.
But we just stand before its eyes,
We hear it’s words right through it’s cries.
It says:

«I wonder what comes next».

— The End —