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Lamb Jul 2014
I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys
Goodbyes are an end, a final, a limit
Goodbyes are terminus
An eradication
I believe there is no proper end

We are cemented within a cycle
A continuum
A never-ending relationship with the world
A flowing river out of your control
Goodbyes imply permanence
A life that never changes
A dormancy  

But Reality has it
You cannot fully control your goodbyes
A person can reenter your life and leave
Over and over and over
Then maybe goodbyes don’t even exist
People can exist in our memories
A perpetual reminder
A video stuck on replay
A beautiful hazy dream
I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys

If people continue to touch our lives
Leaving a lasting impact
A reason why
Then maybe goodbyes don’t even really exist
Because there is no such thing as a goodbye
Because there is no end to relationships
Because there is no end to memories
Because there is no end to love
Because there is no end to the feeling you have

We are cemented within a cycle
A continuum
And this is why I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys

Let’s embrace the idea
Yet see its amusing foolishness
Because maybe goodbyes don’t even exist
Scot Powers Apr 2013
Standing, on the other side of lonely
looking in
waiting,like a becalmed sailor
for the wind
looking , for a reason not to shed
another tear
feeling like a paper doll tossed
by the wind

But those long goodbyes
are taking up our time
bring forth all your tears
those long goodbyes
strain our two lives
desperately , clutching the years

Talking,to help myself remember
who I am
Journeys a thousand miles out and back
I've been
discovering, what a loss and what a fool
I've been
hoping, for redemption and another
invite in

But those long goodbyes
keep taking up our time
bring forth all your tears               x2
those long goodbyes
straining our lives
desperately, clutching the years        

Seeing, you standing in my doorway
once again
knowing, that this is exactly where
you should have been
touching, softly kissing the one that
I've missed
loving,for forever it's always
where we've been

But those long goodbyes
keep taking up our time
bring forth all your tears
those long goodbyes
straining our lives
desperately clutching the years      X2
a new one for the upcoming album.
will19008 Apr 12
goodbyes—
there were always goodbyes
and silence
more silence
but always more goodbyes

goodbyes—
ended without an hello
just started
we began again
but always more goodbyes

goodbyes—
ended in our reunions
maybe virtually
perhaps personally
but always more goodbyes

goodbyes—
this time it's goodbye
that just could—
that just might—
that just may—
stick.
robin moyer Oct 2011
This morning, out in lightly falling snow, I heard geese
as flights of them flew overhead. Like a shot
I was ten again, Grammy and I at the lake. I’d sit in the bow
of my canoe, pulled awkwardly ashore, neck craned back to watch the sky.
I was always sad to see them go; their calls so many cold goodbyes.
Ice encrusted water slushed against the dock in slow motion waves.

It was time to seek new horizons, where waves
of Floridian waters would embrace the geese.
My grandmother said that every new adventure started with goodbyes
to one thing or another. If I were ever to have a shot
at following my dreams, there’d be farewells as I reached for the sky.
Instinct would lead me onward to my accomplished bow.

One year Momma and Poppa Goose stayed behind, a nest in the bow
of my boat. The wintery sky turned black with departing waves.
They would call out as the flying ones filled the sky.
Wounded wing grounded Poppa. (Canada geese
mate for life.) Momma would not leave her mate, recently shot
during hunting season. She would not yet say her goodbyes.

This, then, was the winter of no cold goodbyes.
Before school, pony tailed hair with ribboned bow,
blowing in the stiff breeze, I’d take a shot
at keeping ice from the edge of the lake, waves
arrowing out as they swam. The geese,
with an itch in their wings, anxious for a return to their sky.

That summer Poppa introduced his flock to the sky,
practiced formational takeoffs leading to goodbyes.
Clouds overhead gathered gray with unfallen snow as the geese
took flight. My two watching for a moment, dipping heads in an elegant bow,
before joining in the aerial ballet of strong winged waves.
Grammy’s strong hand gripped my shoulder, then-- the parting shot.

Grammy joined the geese beyond the horizon. No miracle shot
or endless love could keep her with me. Heaven was in the sky.
I knew she was watching although there’d been no time for final waves.
Her new adventure started without time for goodbyes.
Outside, snow blanketed as I cried myself to sleep. Her final bow
had been silent, but she’d been telling me, as had the geese.

Overhead the geese are shaftless arrows shot
from an instinctual bow piercing the morning sky
with their raucous goodbyes. Time waves.
BertJane Perez Feb 2015
Goodbyes never hurt me
It's always the memories that follow
To live in such a cruel reality
A world so insensitive and shallow

A goodbye is just a moment
But the memories are stuck on replay
To think we deserve such torment
We remember each and every day

A goodbye will not hurt you
But the memories will shatter your being
Break your heart into pieces
Your life may even lose meaning

Goodbyes do not hurt you
They are only the beginning
A life that was once so simple
Turned into a life so unforgiving
Phoebe May 2014
There is a sense,
Of having to go with dignity,
Too strong to break,
Preparing for goodbyes.

There is a sense,
Of fighting for a cause,
Too weak to battle,
Preparing for goodbyes.

There is a sense,
Of losing track of time,
Too tired to check,
Preparing for goodbyes.

There is a sense,
Of time slipping away,
Too scared to go,
Preparing for goodbyes.

There is a sense,
Of relief at the end,
Too lost to cry,
Preparing for goodbyes.
Goodbyes are better said without being said,
Examine the dead, their goodbyes are classic!
Sudden, abrupt, brusque!  gives the chill,
Defines the very essence of abandon without making a promise not to return- the emptiness, uncertainty and recurring questions- all define the grandeur of good goodbyes...
For Ja, upon your announcement
Astra Jul 2018
I wish I believe it when people say they'll never leave,
But I still taste the salty tears of the goodbye note you wrote,
The lullabies of heartfelt cries,
An those times I was to good at say goodbye,

Behind my pain-filled eyes,
I see a girl I use to recognize,
A healing heart,
On a open battlefield,

A little girl trying to believe the bedtime story she told,
But being told by her soul the real world,

One where princess have to wait for there Prince Charming,
One where the frog kisses the wrong princess,
One where the fairy godmother is to late,
And one where she broke her shoe,
her carriage has become a cage,
When her hair as faded from every page turn,

The war that has been raged inside her,
Because she afraid to believe in one day,
She afraid to believe the nevers and the forevers,
Because she seen everyday turn to parades of the same fake forces daze,

To never forget that life to short to trust salt,
That was confused for sugar,
That being nice with only take you so far,
And that one day,
You wake up feeling the same,

You'll flap our wings one more time,
And sing your fairytale song,
And your true love will sing along,
You’ll remember what it like to dream,
And believe it could be a happily ever after,

And wake up in a world,
Of your own,
And those goodbyes,
Will turn to mournful cries from forgotten peoples eyes,
Because just than they will realize,
There boring lives,

As she thrives,
She survives,
And now truly now,
She good at goodbyes,
And hardly recognized,
For the rest of her life
March, 20th, 2018, All rights reserved
derelictmemory May 2014
Sometimes I wish I was better at goodbyes. Maybe instead of saying, "See you tomorrow." I could've said, "See you as the seconds become too much of a forever for me to understand time."
Maybe if I was better at goodbyes, I wouldn't have to be so shocked to see you walk pace after pace to put distance in between my body and my heart.
Maybe if I was better at goodbyes, I wouldn't be filling up pages with hope and a loose grip trying to keep you in a place you don't want to be.
Maybe the entire matter of saying goodbye wouldn't be an issue if I followed every hello with a, "May you live long and well without me."
I've been wandering the unlit streets for so long that when a light begins to shine in the eternal night, I latch on to it like a leech latches on to scarlet filled bodies until I've burned out the light.
And I'm so terribly sorry for all the woes I've added to yours and I am forever in your debt; a debt I cannot repay with words or a life.
I'm sorry for the way my shadow casts out your light and the way my hands hold on for longer than you want them to but I've been alone for a long time and I overcompensate my loneliness with what you don't wish to give.
I live my life trying to repay my debts but I am neither oath bound nor promised to you. Nonetheless every drop of life I can give, I will give.
Every ounce of pain I can take, I will take.
And I will not love; for love is a luxury meant to those who deserve it and I don't.
The only goodbye I can muster is the whispers in the wind of the way I could've loved you and every wave of grief the ocean sends as an apology to the shore for leaving so abruptly.
A goodbye was expected and a goodbye will be given
A goodbye you will have to accept and a goodbye I have no choice but to give
For the leaves have long weathered its branches and a parasite is only living through the things it kills and I have killed.
I have killed my strength
I have killed my belief
I have killed my happiness
I have killed you
My limbs are not strong and my arms cannot hold you
My eyes are brimming with pain and I cannot translate unheard promises to you
My ears are covered and I cannot hear your pleas
All I know is the pain of goodbyes and it is all I can ever be
Maybe if I were better at letting myself fall into fierce torrents of water
Maybe if I were better at being a friend, a sister, a student, a daughter, a follower
Maybe if I deserved a sense of happiness and love
Maybe
Maybe then I could be saved
But I am not
And I'm afraid its too late to be saved
Ray Ross Jul 2018
7th grade, she told me,
"I don't want to live,"
I can't take it as a joke.
The fear of goodbyes.

8th grade, a friend of a friend,
It could've been him,
The way her face contorted
As she said goodbye.

I lost sleep, just to talk.
Would it be the end,
If I left my broken friends?
I lost sleep, for them.

In 9th grade, he told me,
I made him say it,
"I will see you tomorrow."
I said that nightly.

A promise. It meant hope.
The worst days' nights,
I'd say it again, with love.
It was a promise.

Words are everything here,
One mistake, it's over.
I may not hear his voice again
If I don't sway him.

Pressure, is this love now?
I'm so scared, always.
He came first, after all this.
I had to leave him.

Feeling selfish, alone,
I had to leave him.
Now getting close, major fear,
Terminal goodbyes.

I'll love you, for a while,
I might not get close,
It's overwhelming, dear god,
The fear of goodbyes.
6
5
7
5
Tyler Williams  Jul 2010
Goodbye
Tyler Williams Jul 2010
Do you remember the day you said goodbye?
Did you cry your most heartfelt cry, and how much did it hurt?
Did it feel like the heavens came crashing down
and on their way to oblivion, they collided with your heart
and stole it away from you?
Stole it away like that indian giving sun,
and however racist it may be,
it's true.
Goodbyes, if properly done, should hurt
You should feel the pain of amputation,
for although it's not external,
it's a part of you removed, but somehow existing on its own.
Goodbyes, if properly done,
should leave you empty.
Empty like that candy *****
after you finished cramming down your last savory bite.
Goodbyes, if properly done,
should leave you yearning for the future.
They should drive you to return
to that thing that you so foolishly left behind.
But, goodbyes, if properly done,
should inspire you to grow.
They should inspire you to create something new,
something fulfilling.
Goodbyes need to be cherished,
and although they arnt the same as a newborn baby,
fragile, innocent and naive,
you should treat them all the same.
Goodbyes are special, unique,
and even though it's redundant to say,
they are one of a kind.
Goodbye's, if properly done,
should not be done
at all.
I wrote this for my best friend back home.  I left for college and I felt bad that I left her behind.  I want her to know that no matter how far apart we are, we will never say goodbye to each other, and that I will never forget the person that she is.
My Scarlet Amora Dec 2014
Well I finally did it
I made a choice
And I think its right
Im sorry that I ever met you
Not because of emotions
But because of you
I wish I could have spared you
I wish I could take all of pain away
I wish I wish
But that doesn't change anything
I thought we were friends
Maybe even best friends
But I guess they were right
And now it's finally time
No longer stuck between hello and goodbye
This is it
There is nothing left for me to say
Except everything
Tommy Johnson  Dec 2013
RISE
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The

— The End —