I stood on the edge,

a cliff one might presume

did loom across the sky

create a romantic setting of pain

forbade in memory the sort of

self-determined anxiety

we all seem to forget is part of the

experience,

the human condition.

 

In my mind, there is no other truth,

beyond the fear I may be exposed,

the fraudulent nature of my

trial and error

personality driven finally to a rocky crest,

perhaps a window sill,

might be just the length of a tall

aerial bridge.

 

So many avenues to choose,

an easy escape,

a leap of lost faith,

and we all descend slowly into hell.

 

Or so that might be suggested,

when we stand in a certain space,

listen to people whom we have grown to trust,

not simply by knowledge,

more by sight,

the physical presence

of a smile,

familiar eyes,

the people we surround our lives with,

as we do determine that stability,

keeps us away from a precarious

ledge.

 

I had another thought today though,

I did not choose to be alive,

I did not ask,

I certainly if had discovered,

might have taken option two …

 

Nobody (there) was offered that option.