I walk atop a tall bricked stalk,

Wind cutting through my cheek;

Stepping just slightly over to the edge.

I contemplate why i’m so invisibly meek.

I called her name and she turned around,

But looked right through me with pure desolation;

Should i tell her, elucidate the truth of it all,

Or will i be simply risking her life in this discombobulation.

One way or another they’ll find me aloof,

And they’ll shackle my soul away;

I’ll be left entirely docile but to do their bidding,

So i run further and further, left with but dismay.

So here i am once again atop,

Of this broken old stalk of disdain;

Standing over on the edge of all that is left,

Just wishing to be seen again.