by The Reaper
From dreary thoughts it arose, of what it is like to be there, on the edge of a knife.
|We all linger over it, hanging only by a thread
Staying on the edge, we glimpse down into it.
It’s vacant, full, dark, bright, yet void of anything.
It seeps into us, fills us, turns us to stone.
Never is it seen, but its there, always there.
We feel it in our bones, in the depths of our hearts.
Forever it has existed, and so it will until the end of time.
Carrying on our lives, we try to forget it,
To banish it from our souls.
But never will it go, never.
It is within us, hidden, but there none the less.
It is as much a part of our being, as our love, hate, joy, thoughts.
It is at the core of our very being.
So fall into the Abyss, and be no more.