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.