The ending of no beginning.
The finish of no start.
The prologue of a story not started.
It’s unclear.
You’re trying to get to the finish line.
There is no end without a start.


The sunshine was rarely seen. It was there, but behind the many bunches of clouds that were always there. Never gone. When it was seen it was celebrated. But, one girl dreaded it. In the gloominess you saw nothing other than her hair covering her bright eyes. The sunshine didn’t make her smile it made her glare.


When the start comes to an end.
The middle has flown by.
A start always ends.
But an ending creates a new beginning.
A new end will always end the new beginning.


The dark colour of crimson was seen often. It was planned; it was forced upon a him. It never brought pleasure it brought pain. Sometimes too much pain; it created sadness, depression, sorrow. It created pathways of outlets and dissolving into the unknown. The unclean, unwanted, despised.


The start with no ending.
The beginning with no finish.
The epilogue of a story not finished.
It’s indistinct
You’re trying to start.
There is no start without an end.