Unspoken Broken

A foggy night, dizzying heights, the heady scent of the things he tries to fight
Thunder crashing, his heart's thrashing, raindrops splashing, nature's might
Safe and sound, enclosed around him, a resounding consequential  roar
Impressed by the dress of his rest, tested by the sequential hordes
Normally he would see the weather as a sweater, comforting
But tonight, on top of the world, he feels naught but confronting
He's seen a shrink, but the man didn't think much about his pain
He said not to read into the demons who take pleasure in wrecking his brain
He wants to put his hurt into words, but not even his family understands
No longer is he even sure of his choice to put his life in the Lord's hands
The pressure for him to succeed, precedes the needs he leaves
Outwardly calm, yet he's internally screaming, "Lord please!"
Eternally hiding the infernally foolish thoughts, but not the truth
Afraid to get close to anyone who hosts a chance of being his proof
Undiagnosed, like his brothers, but only he's been abandoned by his mother
Not medically but mentally ill, the metaphysical is like no other
He's hearing voices above the normally chaotic noises... they're getting stronger
They're telling him that he's worthless, and that his life should wander
But today, today he lost his job, and with it his wife, and the will to live
Now, on the top of his old apartment building, he feels he's nothing left to give
"Hey".... someone's there. Maybe someone saw him, felt bad.
He turns, sees a young man, maybe half as old as his own 50 years, but sad
"It gets better you know", but he didnt listen, edging closer to the end of the roof
Young man's saying something about life being worth living, but he's got no proof
He's not listening to the man who wants to help him guide
Looking through his broken eyes, the only thing you can see is suicide
Sirens pulse and build, circling where he stood, somehow desperate
Resolve begins to build, he remembers he's done some good, he can attest with
The other man stops talking, and then begins to approach him carefully
He looks at the other man's outstretched hands, thinks of when he was carefree
Someone's shouting on a loudspeaker. "Everything will be ok"; he knows it's a lie
He steps to the edge, his demons cheering him on; they want him to die
The ground is slick with rain, but also with the blood of his tears
He tries to wipe his face, but his tattered sleeve only offers smears
This is it, the final act, nothing after this that's worth his thought
After he's finished, his body will attract flies and maggots, no one fought
He doesn't even jump, he just steps off. The lightning flashing, angels sing
People screaming, his wrists are bleeding, but in his mind, freedom rings
Now he's a mess on the sidewalk, maybe now he'll make people talk
His neighbors sobbing, they didn't know him, but he walked the walk
The streets are dangerous, there's no grip from the rain, steady slipping
the ambulance on its way there skids into the very building he lived in
Now there's a fire; this isn't adele, everyone is in their own private hell
This one man, in his own world, made everyone around him as though they fell
He didn't think he mattered, but he made the matters of all others change
So the world can be affected one sad little man, and given the one thing he thought he didnt have... change

This poem is about: 
Our world


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