It was late. Most had gone home.
One day.
Fake money and plastic flowers
Scattered across tile
Where the darkness gave fluorescent lights
a creepiness.
And that finality
Known all too well
When the energy is built up so high
Just to crash
When hours ago
This room was filled with laughter and joyfulness
Gone so suddenly
Almost like dead spirits
Now all that's left
Are half filled racks with suits
And an empty hallway
Where Axe lingers in the air
And props scattered on the ground
The remnants of multiple souls
Or one collaborative soul
Which I now mourn.
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