The Final Straw

Well, it's over, I'm on my way out.

That's the end, the final straw,

no point left, nothing to shout about;

the last drawn breath, the only claw

left in the fabric is about to fall.

No clinging on, it's all too late

as the rest of hope begins to dissipate.

I walk away, down the long hall,

down the hall, out the door,

out with my silent roar.

The End

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