There's a girl sitting on the bank.
Should she jump?

There's a bank of your mind;
The precipice, wherein lies the thoughts best unseen, rather not thought about.
The unthinkable.

There's an abyss here
adhering to the sculpture of tears I'd rather hide.

A fall of lost work unappreciated and vain.
This would be be the last you would hear of me.
But I am not a warrior, or am I?
What does my survival deign?

This municipal pool of bedraggled thoughts
It's really wearing thin.
If I lose depth, will I lose myself?
I just can't tell anymore.

All in all,
This is too obvious.
Too simple.
There's only one solution.