…for everything

Night fell on me writing this
And I ran out of paper
So I crossed the name out
At the top of the page

Not sure why I’m even writing this
But I guess it feels right
It sort of feels like I have to
Like an exorcism

I guess that makes me sound crazy
But that’s alright
Lately I feel like I might be
Not that I’ve heard any voices or anything

Just like that everyday kind
Where you forget things you shouldn’t
And you think too much about death

Maybe you know what I’m talking about?
Or maybe you would have known?
Or had known? Is it once knew?
I don’t know what tense to use

I know I never used to feel like this
I used to never think of death or hear voices
I used to feel like everything was perfectly in order
A normal life, but I guess then came a departure

That I know you understand
Or would’ve understood
I guess things changed after that
And I’m mostly scared now

But it’s there in the stories
Or whatever they are
You can see it
Anybody could, if they could look

I wrote some notes in the
Margins explaining it
The rest is in between lines
Or in the fine print

First, the feeling of abandonment
Then trying to cope
Then death and hope and the thing itself
Waiting for me

It’s all there in the pages
Ahead of here
It’s there, waiting for you
Or for me; I’m not sure

The whole story

For everything
For everything