The End and the Next Moment
Boredom is that low sense of longing for something you wish you had that is something you cannot know And that's where it ends The silence feels like a closing book A page turned to blanks Like we're not setting up for what's next but shutting down what has been Machines shuddering to a stop Lights flickering out into shadows Silence holding echoes where echoes shouldn't be The door bangs closed like a gong reverberating like ripples through time Now that it is done I can't look back Now my feet shuffle and I move I know what this waiting is It's the slow roll toward the next end the next moment of silence a final sense of meaninglessness So much time spent wondering if that movement was real All that I was waiting for was nothing And I had it all along
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