Panic Above The Rushing Waters



There’s a cold chill in the air

and not a voice in the streets

beside me, the pillows on the floor

and tears in the sheets

I don’t know what I did

or what I said

that made you cry like this

and so the troubles bled

from a wounded soul

and the hole, I couldn’t close

Choking on something brooding

dangerously close to suicidal woes

I remember you clutching my face

in a panic at the theater

you were always leaving and coming from this place

why couldn’t I see her?

Between panic and rage

you cried enough for ten lives

and barely twenty

it was like someone your age

but for reasons unspecified

you had chosen to no longer live

and with the river rushing below

you chose instead to die



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