Untitled by Tres Wood

Untitled

by Tres Wood

Well, I've finally done it; I've reached the ragged edge

Standing on a razor blade, cold wind blowing through my soul

Naked against the elements, wondering just how

I made it here and whether this is a healthy place to be

It's scary out here, thousands of feet straight down

To the unknown at the bottom of the abyss, and no way out

But up, and my flying skills are long neglected, antiquated

The constant pull of my humanity pulling me against the cold steel edge

Or past it if I'm not careful of how and when I step

How can you step out in faith when you've forgotten what it means?

But now the contemplation of how things used to be

Pulls me back to reality, and I find

That aloneness is only as bad as you conceive it to be

You're never on the edge of sanity unless you want to be

And all it takes to bring you back

Is a word, a touch; simple caring gestures

But so often never seen until the flowers lie on the casket

instead of in the grasp of the one they were meant for.