This world wants to open up and take me.
Each day I rise it quakes beneath my feet.
Something stirring deep below −
hollow, spiteful, cold in bearing,
staring up at me and hating all it sees −
grits its teeth and taunts me in the night.

This world wants to open up and take me.
My foot is sliding ever closer to the edge.
No one to reach out to catch me falling.
No one calling out for me to turn away.
But would it be the end, or could darkness
be a friend? Were I to fall, would it be alright?