Well. It’s that time again.
See, every few years everyone in my life walks out.
I thought it was me, then I thought it was them.
I figure now that it just must be the way life is.
The swinging door at the grocery store.
They come in take what they need and leave without looking back.
In the past I would replenish all I had lost, all they had taken,
Now I let the shelves empty.
I turn the customers away
I tell them, I don’t have what they’re looking for
The managers who created this place,
Who created me
Do everything they can to keep me open
They frantically restock the shelves
Invite people in
Promote the things that I just don’t have anymore
Until I lock them out too,
Now it’s quiet.
The leftover food rots.
The shelves fill with dust.
The swinging doors rust and the mechanics break
Closed for good.