I sat there
Like it was the end of the world
As final as virulent cancer or a bouncer enforcing last call

These days I don't know if friends are visiting to say hi or goodbye
If they hover over me in a chair or in a box
If the night is quite because it's unspeakable or nobody has anything to say anymore

And if it is the end
Then what comes next?
Because there is always something next
Even if it lonely nothingness
Which is no worse than this lonely waiting for nothing in particular that might or might not happen.

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