They see you hanging,
Struggling,
Slipping off the ledge,
Desperately trying to hold on with nothing
But the weak muscles in your fingers,
Slowly being peeled away,
By the demonic hands of time.
One…
By one…
By one…
They all look down on you,
As your hands grow tired.
They don’t catch you,
Pull you over the ledge,
Into the safe embrace of happiness.
They watch as the pain and darkness swallow you whole,
Pulling you toward indifference,
Where you won’t feel anything,
Except numb.
You look up at them,
Tears streaking your dirty face.
You want to reach up,
With one of your sweaty palms.
Or squeak out the words
Help me,
That seem so abasing.
Until you see their glowing faces,
Twisted with forced sympathy,
And their perfect lives,
The pity in their eyes while they stand there,
Looking down on you,
Like watching a daisy,
Desperately clutching it last petal,
So it doesn’t become a naked disgrace.
Before the brisk winter.
They see you hanging,
Struggling,
Slipping off the ledge,
Toward the unknown abyss lying beneath you,
Where you are destined to disappear,
To lose yourself,
Broken beyond repair.
Desperation in your eyes,
You look up at them,
But they look down on you,
And all they can say
As they walk away:
“Hang in there”.