There is no calmness quite like it,
its warmth caressing
your tumultuously tumbling mind,
a damp cloth on a fevered forehead.

All the white noise behind your eyes
suddenly ceases
with the decision made,
the route mapped,
the end in sight,

The end of it all,
an unholy trinity
of pain, noise,
all done,
as you will be gone,
nothing of you left
but the body you once inhabited
and the memories
alive in the minds
of those
who didn’t really know you
after all.

© 2018, Edward Lee

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