What do you fear most,
When you realize you’re falling?
The fall itself, or the pavement
Coming to greet you?
I guess when you’re falling,
You don’t have time
To think of these things.
Maybe you do, depending on
How long you are falling for.
When you realize you’re falling,
Do you brace yourself for impact,
Or greet the pavement with open arms?
I know when I fell,
It happened so fast,
I didn’t have time for reactions.
I’m still not sure if
I’m still falling, was saved,
Or if my guts stained the ground
And left my soul to wander elsewhere.
I don’t feel dead and I don’t feel alive.
I know I don’t belong,
But where does that leave me?
If death and the living don’t have a place for me,
Where does that leave me?
I cut myself open, bleed out on the floor.
Blood and tears stain my hands
And the once pearly carpet.
If you’re alive, you feel pain.
If you’r’e dead, you don’t,
As I cut a little deeper.
So what am I?
I don’t feel physical pain,
Yet I still think I have a pulse.
If I didn’t, that means I couldn’t bleed.
I feel so detached from the world I am in.
Can’t find closure among the living
And I can’t reach out far enough to the edges of death.
Just floating somewhere in between
In a sick form of limbo.
Bouncing back and forth.
Bouncing up and down
From ground to earth.
Swinging side to side
Like a weight on a string.
Still there, but barely hangin on.