The Edge Is Near Poem by Connor Whyte

The Edge Is Near

Rating: 5.0


Locked inside my dungeon I call home listening to the sounds of my mind making me uncomfortable, The sounds that push me closer to the edge, it is so near and my hands scratch the walls and my head drags below my shoulders, my fist clench and pound holes inside my soul.

The edge is near and I am being pushed closer, if I fall how long will I fall for? Will it be forever or will it be fast and end quickly? My patiences are depleting and fingers are bleeding and the dirt sticks under my nails, locked inside and secluded my heart is hollow and the ideas of the brain are insanity, insanity that keeps me in the dungeon I call home, where is the sanity?

The ink is draining slowly and the thirst is gaining on me, will these be my last words or will I die from dehydration, I walk and beside me stands my shadow that plays tricks on me, walk this desert that never seems to bring joy just to be pushed over the edge and fall and be smashed into oblivion, all my meaning aches as the sun beats on my neck leaving me to faint. My voice yells hate and for all these long years a tear falls and feeds my fears, lost grip as I fall from the edge bone broken and lost without discretion.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jessie Jett 16 June 2012

Indeed deep Connor. I much liked the imagery, and the longing for your words. Feels of helplessness, and submission. Don't give up!

0 0 Reply
Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi 16 June 2012

People in such a situation should Hold the cliff and climb up. even if they are pushed down. Don't ever give up. We are born to live happily.

0 0 Reply
Alex Medina 12 June 2012

Wow. This was very deep. Might I invite you to read Never Surrender?

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success