What happens when shielding ends?
The End of the Road
At the end of the road, there’s a monster
The kind that lurks and looms.
It lives where it is easily hidden
In a kiss or a laugh or a hug.
There are 8 billlion of them out there.
So how do I pick up the pieces
Fill my lungs to the rafters,
Rest ever after?
Does the world even exist as I imagine?
It is hard to tell within these four walls
If I am as alone as my mind paints pictures?
I think, therefore it must.
This scenery breathes like a wild and savage beast
The frontier a dangerous abode
Where a friend is a foe that sends
Terror-laced love at the end of the road.
