I sang, I screamed, I laughed:
She’s cute!
Now at the end of my life,
I’m mute.
How strange the transformation from love
to not—a shock.
I had to walk around the block.
It is almost stranger than love itself—
the feeling when you don’t care anymore.
Love told me, “there’s so much in store;”
how strange to not love anymore.
It’s like standing on a cliff. A new view.
Just a person walking along—that’s you.
The time went by. The worst thing—the end of love, like the end of life—
happened when I wasn’t looking. Who is this? Were you my wife?
Were you that childhood friend from Riverside Drive?
There’s not much to say. It’s the end of my life.
A last glimpse of a cloud, then into the tunnel.
I once cared about this. What they say is true.
You don’t change life. Life changes you.
Every choice you made was never yours.
On the brink, choosing itself implores.
My dreams, where I have no choice, still charm.
Life was only pleasure—and escape from harm.
Death is becoming sexier than life!
It’s strange to say, but it’s true!
I think I wanted this to happen. I don’t care about you.