How do you know when you are done?
Is it when the job is done?
Or when your heart ache so bad that it simply no longer hurts.
That is something that is hard to tell
There is nothing more to say
Yet you never know how to stop
You move so fast that you never see the light
Home is never a place to rest
It becomes a place of unease nonsense
Then you realize that the work is not done
So, you ask yourself again when you are done
The answer is not an answer that you want
It becomes the one that you accept
Then when you have given it your all
You will begin again
Then you done