That is the only thing I see
As I am falling down,
Where did it begin?
Where will it end?
Where am I, at this point?
The beginning, the middle or the ever elusive end?
Beginnings are hard to go through, they open up new hopes,
Middles, seemingly more bearable
Although, they could resort to a terrible and unforgiving climax
How terrible they appear to be, like
The end of a life, questioning how it could have been different,
The end of a book, where we wish there was more of,
Or the end of a relationship,
This only leads to pain and suffering on one end or another
The only way one knows of emotions they still hold
How you know you're not completely empty
This fall is taking forever
And--sigh--still more waiting
For the harsh yet realistic hard ground
Maybe then, if only even then:
Some things will be different
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