"And apologies, once postponed, became harder and harder to make, and finally impossible."

— Gone With The Wind, Margret Mitchell

The looks on their faces. Guilt, regret, despair. Losing a life that could be saved. Driving a friend to the brink of insanity. Once it's too late, all that is left is memories. Fake or real. It eats at you, chipping away you mind. 

I stare at the water. This is it. And I feel nothing. All that's left is waiting for the audience to come. A good show is nothing without spectators.

And so I wait, numb to the cold breeze. A beautiful sky, waiting to be stained with blood. A night that will be burned into everyone's mind, a scar that may never heal. 

Minutes will pass, maybe hours, and a world will fall apart.

A broken puzzle, an empty vase. Left to rust and break.