As the headaches grow, it just floats there...
in memory, in sight.
Unable to comprehend my emotions, my exhaustion...
It's pathetic.
It's finished but unfinished
I just hang there, denying the belief that this is over..
but it's done.
No one will speak, no one will hear.
Everything is normal.
But is it really normal?
Normal enough for me to let go
Normal enough, that it's easy to act natural.
I don't know.
I will never know.
because it hangs in the air.
No one will bring it up again..
The exception is me.
I'm unfinished.
