Baskadia

I hate Goodbyes,

I do.

I hate it when someone comes,

But I more likely hate when someone goes.

It was a bustling day,

That you can hear laughs in every corner,

That you can see everyone is opening their mouths, talking.

That you can hear their voices,

That you can see their presence.

And then, suddenly, in a short period,

Everything went back to normal.

The quietness of the surroundings,

The tweets of the birds,

The tick of the clock,

The water coming out from a faucet.

That bustling turns into peace,

That laugh turns into sadness,

That voice turns into a mere ambiance,

That presence becomes memories.

I hate this feeling of longing,

I felt nostalgic.

I hate people coming 'cause,

I know they'll go.