Time for us to go.

Time for us to burn the sheets and clothing.

Burn the stuffed animals clenched so tightly during desperate times.

Time to stuff the needs into old weathered bags and go.

Time to throw the books in a bin, clutching the classics under coats.

Running blind through dark and solemn rooms.

Time to wipe the shelves of our notebooks full of novels we wrote.

Holding those close to our hearts as we sneak out.

The precious words written with the strong beats of our heart.

Time to absorb every song and lyric spoken to us through our secret language.

Humming the soft tunes to guide us through darkness.

Time to pick the pen that flies through all our novels and notes that pick through our maze of a mind.

It is time to pause.

Time to lay out back on the cool grass and look longingly up at the blue dream and faint stars millions wish upon.

Time to wish for ourselves.

Time to cleanse us of our nightmares and every loss and heartbreak we've gone through.

Time to forget.

Time to move on.

Time to take with us what truly matters.

Our music.

Our bond.

Our notes.

Ourselves.

It is time to go.

Time to fly.