The wood of the ledge is smooth beneath my feet,
waiting silently,
the only reminder of a tree long
dead.
The cars race by,
rushing past to some place
or another,
moving with false urgency,
ignoring all surroundings.
Inside, men and women sit,
silently,
unaware,
of it all.
Unaware
of me.
If I jumped,
would they care?
Would they,
notice?
Would,
anyone?
The wind whips by,
stinging my cheeks,
bringing with it the light
laughter
of a small child.
It tugs at my
soul,
lost,
in the darkness.
The laughter tinkles on,
no longer a comfort.
Sharp,
menacing,
unknowing and uncaring,
like
so
many
others.
And they are all laughing,
Without glee,
Mocking,
Chasing.
Chasing me.
Chasing me off
the ledge,
out of life,
and into
Freefall.
