Look at the purple sky,
The streaks of orange,
Clouds passing by.
Standing at the precipice,
Staring at the rock bottom,
I don’t dare look at the beauty,
Too scared to shatter my thoughts,
I don’t look above me.
That’s what we miss,
When we think about falling.
We miss vibrancy,
When you’re too busy to wonder,
About how you’re alive,
Too lost for the vast sky.
Too self involved and you don’t know why,
The abyss acting as a forebode.
You take one step further,
So many thoughts filling up.
Like a vortex,
You hold on to things,
Your raw hands sting.
Your fading essence,
Lost with your pleading voice,
As you lose your grip,
You look up, just above the crevice.
You finally see the sky,
As your very soul is gasping,
You wish to have one last glance,
That last shred of hope,
So hopelessly clasping.

Published by Keya S. Waghmare

Just a 14 year old who enjoys writing...

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