deepundergroundpoetry.com
On the Edge
On the edge
I look over dead land
the blade rests
deadly in my hand
on the edge
my mind races
the images send
memories, barely traces
On the edge
I let myself fall
over the edge
of the cliff so tall
above the earth we fly
as she lays broken and dying
in sync we fly as nine
finally finished, done hiding
on edge I tense once more
my blade held in a death grip
and now that we're only four
I envision a memory of blood as it drips
another day, three more strifes
and I fly, scarred, into the night
images in my mind of fading life
pushed over the edge, madness burning bright
I look over dead land
the blade rests
deadly in my hand
on the edge
my mind races
the images send
memories, barely traces
On the edge
I let myself fall
over the edge
of the cliff so tall
above the earth we fly
as she lays broken and dying
in sync we fly as nine
finally finished, done hiding
on edge I tense once more
my blade held in a death grip
and now that we're only four
I envision a memory of blood as it drips
another day, three more strifes
and I fly, scarred, into the night
images in my mind of fading life
pushed over the edge, madness burning bright
Published 2nd Mar 2013
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2nd Mar 2013 8:02am
It reminds me of a cat with nine lives who has just lost the ninth, and has died - "fallen over the cliff". I apologize: I don't know what is meant to be happening in the poem.
However, the images are enticing :)
However, the images are enticing :)
Anonymous
- Edited 15th May 2018 7:52pm
2nd Mar 2013 5:45pm
<< post removed >>
3rd Mar 2013 00:34am
thank you. It's quite simple actually, Shelley. There are nine seraphim to start with and as every day ends, more of them die until there is only one left.
