The years with him faded promises;
and the nights grew dank cold.

But the father he was to her kids
would beg her to rewrite all the love stories
she ever imagined it would ever be.

I could have been The Falling Man.
No opinions. No intentions of disrespect.
Only a surreal psuedo-pessimist thought.
Always felt something inscrutable
in that drop.

My reference don't tend a joke.
Please don't fuel any sorta controversy.

But can't deny to wonder what
the thoughts would be,
during that fall.
Will the whole spent life flash
in front of our eyes?
Do we become the kindest, humblest of the few and the worthy human
ever lived in that moment?
Do we wish for some last miracle?
Do we still have ourselves cling to
the last scrap of hope of life again?

As I am writing this, my tears
no more stay tamed inside my eyes,
And my heart goes for the massacre lose.
Lose of lives. Loss of humanity.
Old news, yeah, but still hits the soul.

And the fall taunts my thoughts
as I too beg for a second chance
myself.
I shall revive. This is my life.
This thought shall universally exist
and be reasoned with.