I'm swinging. As the autumn leaves chase each other on the dark pavement of this chilled night, I'm swinging. I'm glancing around at what I can and noticing no one is out, just me and the leaves. I'm swinging. Replaying the last argument I had in my head over and over. I'm swinging. I glance at the moon in hope of some sense of company but I'm left with nothing but empty loneliness. I'm swinging. I thought once I got to this point I should be somewhere else, feel something else... But I'm swinging. My body runs cold and my eyes won't shut. I'm swinging. No mobility and no sense of warmth. I'm swinging. I realize now that there is no end. I'm swinging. The sun arises and the people shuffle out of their warm homes. I'm swinging. I'm eventually cut down, I see everyone's reactions and their fake tears. But why do I still feel like I'm swinging. I'm redressed and pampered up but I still feel as if I'm swinging. The horror as they glue my eyes closed, knowing the only thing I will see for eternity is the back of them. I'm swinging. I hear the hushed voices above me, all pretending to have had such a great life with me in it. I'm swinging. I hear the shut of my coffin and being rolled into the back of the hearse. I'm swinging. I feel the swing of them lowering me in the ground on which pounds of dirt will hide this pointless expensive coffin. I'm swinging. And here I am. Alone with my thoughts, the one thing that drove me to this point, the one thing I found I'll never escape, and I'm still swinging.
3 Am high thoughts. Poorly written, I do apologize.