Im standing on the edge.

A fifty-foot drop has never looked so appetizing.

 I want to step forward and take a bite.

I see the asphalt below as candy, and i my sweet tooth is aching.

 Im being held back by what little support i have left.

They tell me taking that first step has no return, that it will ruin my figure, that there is no plastic surgeon that can fix the mistakes i would make.

The cravings are pulling me in, i need a taste of the sweet release.

I cant get it off my mind.

I was speeding on the drive to the top of the cliff.

Every tree looked like a silencer to the voices in my head.

The street signs are my goodbye notes.

and the ground fifty feet below, is the beginning of the end.

Thank you, im sorry. Sincerely the forgotten.