The precipice of possibilities
Is guarded by the knives of fear and shame,
When passing through I must give up my frailties,
With crumpled fists I know it's not a game.
So ducking knives and blades with wail and push,
I leave the trail of death behind and sigh
To know the edge could take me with a whoosh;
I'll fall, but I don't know if I will fly.
It's cold upon the ledge beneath my feet -
It promises to me I will be safe,
The drop attempts to hide the risks I'll meet;
Decide more quick - the rock begins to chafe.
Taking breath, perhaps the last I'll need,
In but a sec is when I'm finally freed.