What do you do when an ending throws you out to the sudden sound of man-made machinery and wheels on old tired roads?
Forced to accept, that what you hear is just the truth so painfully real
That your ears were only shielded by a beautiful sound you thought would last forever
Do you ever skip back to beginning when words were wishful and childish?
Over and over?
I hold on to the last sounds, to comfort me long enough to remind me that the beginning, middle, and end are all beautiful on their own