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: