What is the point of the things between?
Can't we just skip to the end? Where all the lies are seen?
It's where the eyes cry, and everyone dies.
It is where you learn and grow.
But I would much rather skip that row.

What is the point of all the middle?
Skip the rhyme, skip the riddle.
Take to the end where it is warm and safe,
leave behind the lonely, empty space.

My end is very far away.
As alone as I feel today.
It really isn't an end, more of a fall
Right into the end of the beginning,
straight into the middle of it all.

So I suppose, if I must,
Then I will trust, trust the middle.
I'll stay for the rhyme, stay for the riddle.
Endure the lies, the crying eyes,
even though everyone dies.

I'll stay to learn, I'll stay to grow.
I will sit and listen, rather then skip the rows.
I will wait for where it is warm and safe,
I will wait to be alone, in my empty, peaceful space.