Over the Edge

Looking down

as the rocks

fall.

.

It’s

rather

deep.

It’s

rather

tall.

Yet I feel the urge

to fly.

.

I put a foot forward

and face down

to the rivers

and valleys

and places

where corpses lay,

below.

.

Do I really want to fly?

or do I wish

to fall?

.

The wind-

The silence-

The crunch-

The people-

.

What does it matter

what they think?

This is for me.

I wish to

fa-

fl-

flail?

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