A Poem by Letters from Xhale

This Too Will Come to an End

I had a good day—
laughter rising easy,
often in glee
over a song that made me smile.

For a while,
everything felt light.

Then the old grind stirred,
eager to offend,
to pull me back
into its steady hum.
But I remembered—
this is not going to last.

Not the laughter.
Not the weight.

Small thoughts return—
a gentle lie told to comfort me
about life,
about forever.

And I hear my grandmother's understanding
like a quiet hand on my shoulder:
this too will come to an end.

The song fades.
The echo thins.
The day releases its color.