and there she stands
pretty little dress
black and white, swishy skirt
knowing that they're both almost over:
one. the year
two. her
but why should she care?
she's on top of the fucking world
this is the end, yeah, sure
but it's still her last good day
and even a last good day
is a good day
there is no one by her side
as she stands on the balcony
green eyes bright
contrasting the almost-midnight sky
short hair being tousled in the wind
and her dress flies behind her
and this is the only dress that Hazel will wear this year
and there will be no next year
then the breathlessness starts
this is the end
this is the fucking end
she doesn't waste her breath crying for help
she's going to die
she's going to fall to the ground gasping for air
she's going to die
below her, people counting down from ten
this is the end
it's too late to call for help
and she means to say
'last words are a waste of breath'
but in the midst of the struggle
she can only manage one word
"Gus."
this is the fucking end
and this is not 'okay'
