On the Edge

I see what I shouldn't see.
In that place that I shouldn't be.
Can you balance yourself midair
When you are halfway falling off the cliff.

A step ahead half hanging,
A foot back on the edge.
The lust of the fall to the ground
A hate for the old self not proud.

A wish to be wiser,
Curiosity of the unseen
To look for a place brighter.
A place where I've never been.

A greed bigger than that of money
A love deeper than for a honey.
A cliff steeper than any  skyscraper
A contract with the ripper.

A place of knowing, a place of the unknown
A root deeper than it should have grown.
A moment of freedom, a moment of death.
A moment of placing a life on bet.

A time for reflection, a time for deflection
A time for total introspection
A time for the shore, a time for the sea
A time to catch it before it's free.

The Rotting Book

I had ambition; all I have now is desperation.

My goals were larger than life, never to be real.

A dream carried on too far, nothing I ever feared.

Stories spun in my head like a child's imagination.

I thought of weaving threads through the clouds

before they could ever burst out loud.

I pictured the leaves without any branches

and gave them all the colours I wanted.

But no one wants the leaves non green

or the clouds to be tamed by a needle thin.

A beggar’s clothes must never be clean

and the world must always be cruel and mean.

I tried to push the buttons but had no luck with the current.

I picked up a pencil to draw but all I had was a damp paper.

I tried to swim but my limbs stopped moving out of panic.

My house was on fire but I merely watched it falling.

I was told as a young one that dreams make up your life.

So I dreamt like I had every chance for it to come alive.

But I wasn't warned about the possible externalities.

So here I am passing my days without any clarity.

I chose to tread on this path myself

when I had the will to walk away.

I pick up the pages falling off the shelf

of my life's book that is rotting away.