The Ledge

My legs are dangling off the edge
The bottom of the bottle is my only friend
I think I’ll slit my wrists again
And I’m gone, gone, gone gone…


Teetering dither like a flimsy seesaw at the edge

Of the open skyscraper’s pewter concrete ledge

Gazing hazily past the hundreds of miles below

An amiable breeze nudging me softly as it blows


The open horizon’s colliding apricot and violet

A marvellous sight of the enlightening sunset

Quite the teasing vision of faithful life’s vitality

Akin an ironic requiem of the last sight I’ll see


Teetering unsurely like a vacillating scale at the edge

Of my final standing ovation upon the concrete ledge

If the gale heaves violently, and pressure’s more than I can take

Do I have to take the long fall simply just to catch a short break?


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