On a Ledge

Standing on the edge of a precipice
Staring at the miniature characters below
On a count of three

One… two…

If I had the bullets I could kill them
The instantaneous piercing of their skull
Blissfully unaware of their imminent end

One … two…

If I had the pluck I could kill myself
The stomach-plummeting fall
A splatter on the sidewalk, my legacy

One… two…

And God, if I fucking had a clue
I could’ve stopped you
No spills, no splats
And damn it definitely no

Three

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Carroll with a K

My fear of heights and a close call with a close friend

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