Falling

Cynical Wordsmith

I keep falling,
Expecting
The metaphorical ground
To stop me
With a final,
Sickening
Crunch.

“But all is not lost,”
They tell me,
“There is still hope.”

And I do believe,
In the reliability of gravity,
That systems are broken,
That you don’t know
Who I’ve been,
Who I am,
Or who I’m dying to be.

There’s a chill wind today
And I wonder why the air
Feels different on a rooftop,
Like it has motive
Or maybe just a message.

But the sun is falling again.
It’s just another end
To just another day,
And as I walk inside,
I can’t exactly recall
How the ground below feels,
Just that it’s cold
And I know I’m not ready
To feel it again.

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