I'm standing on the edge
slowly teetering forwards.
Coming this far, now it was too late to
back out. Each day lives are lost
to suicide. Was this it? Was my
life the next to be lost? I'm
but a mere figure to populate Earth,
not that I was important.
As my time may last longer, I want it to end
fast - faster than it should.
As days go by, my only thoughts are upon
death. What is the reason for us to live?
Does life truly matter?
Just moments before I fall,
seconds before I drop, memories flash
before my eyes. Someone pulls me back.
He reaches out for me. He
catches my tears as they would've been my last. The thought of
us being saved is diminished.
All of us will eventually go over the edge, maybe not now but one day.
[message in first word]
A/N
Thank you so much for reading this far! I've reached #534 in poetry and got bumped up to #285 thanks to all you wonderful readers! Help me bump that number up and I'll keep uploading!
#QOTC (question of the chapter): What emotions have you felt while reading these poems?
If you could help someone back from the edge, would you?
YOU ARE READING
Standing
Poetry"I choose to believe there are more than three stages in life. For me, I say there are five." Eva Longsten was crumbling, but soon she found life was easier when you were breathing. She was holding onto who she was until she realized releasing he...
