Regret.

I live in a time where you
and I don't know how to breathe
unless we're inhaling the toxic fumes
from the city streets,
imagining that the world is in our hands.
Oh help me, please help me find
my way back to the ground,
where my feet are solid.
We can hold together and
find a way to make the acid wear
off of our bodies.
These roof tops are high and
I'm so afraid that I
just might drop from the heights.
Suicide they call it.
They don't realize that as you cry
falling down from the darkened sky
the rush of life comes back and you1

Regret.2

Help me, please help me.
I'm so afraid I'm falling.

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Comments


  • Beau Noir
    June 23

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    "and I don't know how to breathe, unless we're inhaling toxic fumes from the city streets" I truly like that line. Regret is a sad thing... Beautiful piece.