(Poems) end credits – 86 words

There’s rolling text when I die— names who helped, names that didn’t.  A startling construction of steel and thorns. Why I succeeded, why I failed.  All written between the lines of those who built me.  The backing music is a mocking drone. 

The theatre empties before the words stop.  No anticipation of a legacy, no expectation of meaning.  A film of empty sorrows and wasted time.  And when the credits come to a finish, there’s no post-credit scene.  The music ends.  The quiet takes a seat.

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