The Fall

Hold on tight, do not let go

The fall might be a wrecking blow.

The rope hanging, unable to bear,

The threads pulling, threatening to tear.

While you hear the lines' last call to rip,

You manage to get a stronger, firmer grip.

Your breath heavy, your arms like rock,

The picture of death from your mind you block.

You close your eyes, you think, "what if?"

A million questions that will drop you; cause a rift.

Yet the idea of letting go now pleasant, welcoming,

For an instant you feel your resolve unraveling.

Maybe there was a river, a fjord,

One unseen, underneath the cord.

Perhaps this is just a dream,

Indeed, with this absurd scheme.

So you think, this is your last thought;

The last battle you fought,

Will it be known to others?

In a manner told by mothers?

Or will this last action be a disgrace,

Not the final struggle to face?

You open your eyes, you breath a sigh,

Now it seems dubiously high.

Just a final leap, unclench, pull away,

And fall into the abyss where you should lay.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741