Too often to count, I have stood
at the edge. Whether it be of
a bottle,
a blade,
a bridge.
And I always used
to think that if I were a bird, I could
simply fly, should I jump. But now I realize
that my wings have been clipped and I am
locked in a cage behind bars that a prison
would be proud of. Still, with false hope
I jump, and I am falling.