Dec 2019
Lightning streaks overhead,
The wind gouges out my nerves,
Which are shot several times over.
Upon this precipice I stand,
The angels rise up from below.
They carry a banner of despair,
Waving it in my face
With a vexing mirth.
My destitute hands tremble,
As the glistening red rain falls,
Touching them
Ever
So
Slightly.
Upon this precipice I stand,
In fear of this desolate world.
I choose to leave my wounds be,
And wait for death’s vile hand
To scald me with and icy iron brand.
The wind gouges out my nerves,
Which are shot several times over.
Upon this precipice I stand,
The angels rise up from below.
They carry a banner of despair,
Waving it in my face
With a vexing mirth.
My destitute hands tremble,
As the glistening red rain falls,
Touching them
Ever
So
Slightly.
Upon this precipice I stand,
In fear of this desolate world.
I choose to leave my wounds be,
And wait for death’s vile hand
To scald me with and icy iron brand.
There’s a reason for it being called untitled and my laziness is part of the answer. I was going to change it but realized nah, it fits. In my mind, the narrator doesn’t know why he’s here. The title would have been why he’s here. Also precipice has 2 meanings, both apply.
