Tell me why all things that start,
cease to exist as they were,
whether good or bad were the purposes,
meaningful or meaningless they were,
Tell me there is a reason,
for why I see the end?
not far away,not close,
ghosting itself in.
Tell me that I am wrong,
that the end would not be bright,
like dark shadows that hover around,
and scare me with their sight.
Tell me it’s all a dream,
and it would break someday,
and I would be happy for what I want,
someday but not today.