- Non-Erotic Poetry
- On the Edge
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As she stood
There twenty three stories up
From the crowd below
Arms outstretched
As the wind caught
And held the damp tendrils
Of her hair
She breathed
And the scent of dirt
Overwhelmed
Even here
Far above the masses
It held and burnt
Into her rotting brain
Still she stood
Still as marble gracing life
Held with cold superiority
Haughty and blue
As the world swirled around her
In hues of color
Unknown to her
When the time arrived
For sentiment she never cried
Or whined about the life
She had been forced to live
No, she kept her head high
And bravely faced the storms
Of loneliness
Until she arrived here
Alone upon a precipice
To stay
To go
What should she do?
- COMMENTS
