it was really dark
the view outside passed me by
a mother crying over her son's death
a bird grieving for its lover's demise
a man feeling lonely after an ending
i didn't realize
the last one was my own reflection
i wanted to call...
who?
anyone
anyone who wants to answer
who would listen
but I'll just ramble on and on
about how you left me
and how you didn't even say a word
this view is killing me
when will I reach the ****** station?
and what will I do then?
what?
where will you be by then?
Paris?
London?


I don't know
about anything
anymore.
not even myself...