The wind wip's her face
the tree next to her, the only thing to embrace.
In this lonely place.
Staring at the ocean's depth and waves
calling her name.
She comes here on the edge of the cliff
because it makes her feel alive.
And god knows she's dead inside.
She brings her pack
because breathing in the smoke
is less painful than jumping of a chair with a noose around your throat.
But she goes closer to the edge this time
wondering why
she choose's to die
one cigarette at a time
instead of
joining the killing waves.
And ending her days spent in the horrible place.
She peeks over the edge
"go over" says her head
she takes a step.
The end.