The Last Line

The Last Line

A Poem by Anna

I stand at the edge of a drop-off;
the roots of trees gnarled out into
the dead zone where a fog hangs--
it is empty and cold out there.
Do I fall?
A tingling in my chest screams--
the man is afraid of falling.
The demon, clawing to touch
the rolling misty nothing;
he wants the story to end.

© 2020 Anna


Author's Note

Anna
S.W.

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Reviews

Fear, the downfall of us dear Anna. He or she, who wait. May find nothing. I liked this poem. A open story that leave something for the reader to ponder. Outstanding poetry shared dear poet.
Coyote

Posted 3 Years Ago


Feels like the interior monologue of the suicide. That person poised upon the precipice du jour, the cliff, the bottle, the needle, the gun, and fearing the fall, and relishing it in the same thought.

Posted 3 Years Ago



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2 Reviews
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Added on December 30, 2020
Last Updated on December 30, 2020
Tags: cliff, dropoff, story, line, last, book, ending

Author

Anna
Anna

Raos Crest, Nowhere



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