Poetry #88: Cliff Edge

Finger nails hanging off an edge

I can’t handle any more of this dredge

The world around me looks bleak

Everywhere wearily I seek

My space vehicle is crumbling and weak

Two feet floating above the abyss

Wondering and as I reminisce

Looking back on my life

A reality of hazy, tortuous strife

As sharp as a butcher’s knife

At my wits end

A miracle, an epiphany, a sign would be a God’s send.

~DiosRaw 30/01/21 11:50AM

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