The end.

Endings don't come with
clear, dark border lines
where your colors
shouldn't overlap.

Endings don't come with the
ticking of a time-bomb
about to explode.

Endings just come.
Faceless. Soundless.
Sometimes, timeless.
And when they do,
you just know.

You know it
deep inside your heart
that there will be no more
last-things you do
or goodbyes or
farewell in any form.

Whoever said endings
are beautiful, is
simply fooling with poetry.
Because they are not.
Endings are painful.
They kill you.
They rip you apart.
They feed on your remains.

Endings are intangible.
You don't see them,
you don't hear them.
You just feel them.
The dead. The end.