The precipice
The fall, un-fell...
To cliffs, successful cling.
I see the sea,
its foaming maw,
wide open, just for me.
To step or not to step,
but there cannot be a question.*
Face is pale and rope is frail,
"REPEL!" The crowd does jeer.
But I can't expel the fear;
For if I succeed--cling till I die--
or tie my noose right here,
the end result is clear.
Must cliffs be so sheer?