I could see the day slip over
See my work go to waste
I could see the things happening
Only inside my head
This isn't easy, isn't carelessly
To tell you of how I've dread
Saying this, this thing of mine
Handing it over, missing a bit
See it crashing to grand design
I watch it shatter, watch it slow
Spreading fast, spreading low
Settling down, setting down
Feeling you, then me drown
I cry for help, reach out
And miss the last branch
Begin to doubt, just a bout
Of razor blades cutting me
So I take one more breath
And push from the edge
Succumb colorlessly
And hope for quick death
Something, unknowingly, somewhere
Keeps me from going far
It's like an interesting sound
So up I come again
And flop restlessly onto the ground
Author notes
I really like the idea of this poem...but I want some suggestions is anyone has them.
A contest entry
- I want it raw by Travel Notes.
600 points, ended September 14, 2008, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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