all good things

It could be a simple misdemeanour
But a challenge like these forty eight hours is still wrong
One hundred seventy two thousand eight hundred
Moments endured
Not what one expects from time spent with one’s partner
In crime, in office, in friendship

And if this personality had a shiny red finish
You would reach out and push with all might in that fist
And continue to drive
Fury into the mind of the one who knows what to know
And dynamite would be ignited
My rage is not a force with which to be reckoned

But that privilege is not all yours
The world cannot shine all successes on your shoulders
As much as we have thought it has to this point
And it may continue to do so for years to come
But just like those one hundred seventy two thousand eight hundred
Moments endured
All things come to an end.