It has been grasped in my fingertips,
The reins that have steered my conscience,
The compass that has guided me through the wilderness
Of myself,
Forests and vast landscapes sculpted by trepidation,
The flowing river of guilt that flows between the cracks
Of my positive façade,
The tables are starting to turn,
The piece of mind I have allowed to dictate my actions
Has shifted towards the edge of a cliff,
Left to plummet to the jagged rocks of my insecurities,
The storm clouds are rolling in from the horizon,
Guttural claps of thunder erupting,
Pulses of lightning striking the last of my happiness,
Shattering it into a million fragile pieces,
Left to burn in the heat of the growing tension
Of my worries,
I'm slipping,
Clinging onto the edge and not looking down,
Not looking down at the twisted fate below
As if I would be staring into the smouldering depths
of hell

I'm too tired to hold on,
I have to let go,
*I have to fall.