Stop

Does it ever end?

Whenever I think about it,

I like to imagine that

It never came to life in the first place.

They taught me that, and well they did.

For

A few seconds

I had succeeded in forgetting it all.

In ending it.

In stopping.

What an art it must be to learn how to be free.

With stops,

You know how it ends.

You wish to continue.

You wish to breathe further. You want to give it one last fight.

But

you see stop. And end.

What I felt...

That had to go.

I wrote a song for you, hoping that they would approve of it.

It had a guitar and a gentle hum. Nothing too exciting. Just the way you liked it.

But

It

Stops.

Did you do it?

I know I did.

I did this.

I stopped.

You stopped.

Whatever went through our heads,

Whatever moved our bodies,

It

All

Stopped.