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I think, somewhere
along the line
A cable was tied to me.
The harness was snug,
I gave it a tug:
Good times were holding me.

On the cliff of life,
I climbed around
Never looking below me.
I had little talks
With sea shells and rocks
Who always seemed to know me.

slowly, a cavern
just appeared
as if it had always been there.
and I found myself
leaving the shelf
to find out what was in there.

so slowly did
the shadows grow
that I learned to like the dark.
forgetting the sun,
and where I'd come from,
I gently embraced the dark.
Probably from 2016 around the time I was diagnosed with depression & anxiety, or early 2017 when I left school to live with my then boyfriend's parents.
m h John Jun 12
we wore our nooses
too loosely around our necks
until we pushed each other
far enough away
not realizing there was a cliff
and the only thing that was there
to catch us
were the burdens of mistakes
we carried along with us
c May 8
The longer I stand
At the edge of the cliff
I cannot tell
If the sign reads
“Caution”
Or
“Welcome”
Ira Desmond Apr 18
The walrus lacks
a rudimentary understanding

of the relationship
between seasonal temperatures

and the amount of sea ice
generated annually

in the northern hemisphere,
and cannot formulate

even a basic hypothesis
that might draw a link between

a lack of sea ice and
a massive surge in coastal overcrowding

among walrus populations.
Nor could we expect the walrus

to comprehend that
this overcrowding has become so severe that

many walruses are continually driven
to seek out higher and higher ground,

and may suddenly find themselves
precariously perched atop the tall, frozen, rocky cliffs

of the Russian arctic coast,
hundreds of meters above the sea,

as their pinniped flippers
lose traction, and the rocks and gravel

beneath them give way
under their considerable bulk.

It would be a bridge too far
for us to expect

that the walrus might understand
the anatomy of even his own eye

such that he would know
that the curvature of its lens

is well-suited for underwater vision,
but is, in fact, maladapted

for making spatial judgements
while on land.

And yet,
we are aware of all of these things,

of this horrifying confluence of circumstances
for which we’re at least partly to blame,

and in which the walrus
now finds himself entrapped.

And we watch it all unfold silently,
so passively:

those hulking ruins

as they tumble down
the cliff faces,

one by one,

wild-eyed,
terrified,

bewildered and breaking
in their final moments.
Did you ever felt like jumping off a cliff,
Not because you wanted to die,
But because you can?
Because no one is going to stop you?
Because you want to see the aftermath?
Did you?
A poem every day.
Jayantee Khare Dec 2018
once upon a time
standing high with you
i was taken to a cliff
and was pushed down
by you with the help of your band..
nothing left to hold on
but an extending hand
midway, i could hold
only to get pushed further down...
crushed to pieces when hit the hard ground
found myself alive
destined to survive
slim chances to revive...
the pain spilled
i quilled
and rebuild
myself on the heap of my write...
now i am standing high
stronger
safer and better
at my own....
now you are being thrown
hanging at the same cliff
by the same people
who helped you once to push me
should i offer my hand
or quietly bestand
or join the band?
Karma never failth......
Amanda Jan 23
I sit on the sharp edge of the present
Fine line separating future and past
My legs dangling into the past
Preventing me from living the current moment
Dwelling on wrong choices made
Words I did not mean to say
Friends and family I lost
Each lonely thought grips me and drags me further into the canyon of memory
I am barely holding onto this cliff with my fingertips
How do I pull myself back up?
Stark Nov 2018
“The void will come to take us away,”
she said, tears streaking down her cheeks
“One by one, they pick us off.”
She let go

And I screamed
And screamed
And screamed

Still tightly grasping the wall
Still breathing
Still living

But barely

I yelled, muscles tensed in frustration
The room seemed to be closing in on me

“Calm down. Take deep breaths,” my therapist said
I strained against my head
My conscience breaking into a thousand dissonant voices

“I could have saved her. She didn’t have to go.”

“You couldn’t save yourself. The void was unavoidable,” she said,
Stroking my hair in long, tangled motions

“But I could have. I could have done more. I should have done more.”
Tears streaked across my face, like window wipers spinning out of control.

“The void comes to take us all.”
And with that thought,
I, too, let go
when thinking about stressors, i describe the result as a void. one feels devoid of feeling when facing the worst odds possible, so i tried to sum it up in a poem and how i've lost others to the void.
n-khrennikov Aug 2018
Far away,
listening to the waves on the boat.
I call your name again and again before the dawn.
n-khrennikov ©
toleomato Nov 2018
A woman and I sit alone
On a train destined for a seaside cliff.
She is dressed sharply:
a tailored business suit with a matching pencil skirt ending just below her knees,
her hair neatly tied back in a short ponytail
and a hard leather suitcase dangling from her left hand.
To her right, I sit in the seat next to her,
I have dressed accordingly as her counterpart:
a cleanly pressed tuxedo, a jet black tie lingering just above the belt line,
a pair of black leather dress shoes polished to a high shine,
with two envelopes, imprinted with our names, dangling from my right hand.
We look prim, we look stoic,
We look accepting of what is to come
as co-partners in misery.

Occasionally,
as she gazes at something distant,
she starts to tear up
and a portion of her makeup begins to smear at the corner of her eyes,
falling as small droplets of streaking black.
I try not to look
but I slowly affix my left hand on her right thigh
where her right hand comes to meet mine.
Her shoulders shudder
My heart starts to flutter,
We both feel dizzy;
Co-partners in misery.

Doesn’t it seem odd?
We could work so much in just a few years
and achieve completely nothing.
Debt is an odd thing,
to what extent was she willing,
to which extent was I willing,
not that it matters,
all we needed was a good heart in the wrong place
and a co-signed loan,
one for her,
one for me;
all for him.
Debt is an odd thing,
The living may never escape it,
But it shall never catch the dead.

With each passing train stop,
we both get a little bit antsier.
She looks more unsure of our decision,
I look more unsure of our decision,
but the train continues.
Her hands start to sweat,
my feet start to tap nervously,
she begins to bite her lower lip anxiously
I begin to heave a little harder
as the ocean comes into view.
We both tempt each other with worried eyes,
But our clasped hands act to remind
that we are just so very tired.
she may want to go back,
i may want to go back,
but the train continues.

Her eyes are wonderful,
as she stares at me,
they ask a simple question:
Is death forever?
I stare back,
Let’s find out together.

The train stops.

Our hearts drop.

Until next time, perhaps.
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