Find me broken at the base of the stairs
When I leapt but couldn’t fly
This ascendancy is tormenting me
Leaves me too afraid to try
To rise and then take a step again
But to stay here is to die
Seems I’ve wasted nights and days
Tossing dreams across the rail
Each sacrifice was worth the price
**** the little things before they fail
But dreams die slow and now I know
They breed nightmares that prevail
So I’m face down on the culling floor
Words in my mouth they beg release
Gasping memories they cling to me
The vendettas will not cease
They want to live they can’t forgive
Until I give them wings and peace
One more time I’ll face it
I’m climbing up that stair
And I pray that light not darkness
Is waiting somewhere up there.
110209
Habit is habit and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed downstairs a step at a time.
~Mark Twain~