End of ends comes for good,

when hurt hearts start to act cute,

mending the offset by pretending,

thus rendering every act mute.

Doubles of troubles,

alongside halfwit rebuttals,

all Importancies vivid once,

now chanced memories find,

begging the question to mind,

can kindness be unkind?

No joy in reach, left sorrows to teach,

not regretting lost dime,

wishing the time,

we were we.

My mind free.

The sum of all time in our pocket,

content with it being frivolously spent.

Without a place we couldn’t walk at,

with no unmendables to mend.

Oh a fantasy to pretend!

I’ll be on my way on,

a lone time spending spree,

yet I beseech upon thee,

to keep makin’ it rain,

the awesome, yet stupid, but free.

Z. Peperko