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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Adult >> ID #1840296 |
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-The Perfect End- by Keaton Foster Here I stand, On a narrow edge. Looking down, People that I once knew, Have all but gone. Those that I don't, Those that I refuse, Stand in judgment, Pointing up at me. Their condemnation Of the decisions faced, Pass right through me. God receives their hate, He refuses their message. He will not be bothered With the likes of me. He will not intervene, His hypocrisy goes quite far. Way beyond all that I am doing, Way beyond such a pathetic man That is about to take his own life. Such a life was a gift from him, That was rescinded long before This here and now. The perfect end, Beckons me closer. Those below are powerless to stop me, Not because they know not what to say, But because I refuse to hear them. I have had all that I can take, I cannot bear another suffering voice. Another troubling absurdity thrown at me. From such an auspicious height, They look like specs of dust, Scattered across a cold canvas. I cannot make out their faces, I cannot make our their true shapes. I see them as I have always wished, Shapeless nothings no longer feared. I have no doubt that the Impact of me will be great. I am sure that death will be As instant as a dream. One hundred and twenty floors, Is quite a ways to fall. I came here from far away, To the tallest place that could be. All the way down I will see myself In the glass façade of this tower. This monument to all that man can achieve, Will be desiccated by me and my doom, At least until someone comes along and cleans up The mess of what is to be left of my being. All that way down, I will be forced to face myself. I will be forced to see into the end That I have decided to face. The perfect end, It shall be… The Perfect End Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012 Biography
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© Copyright 2012 Keaton Foster Wears No Pants! (UN: keatonfoster at Writing.Com).
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