Slipping

I’m hanging from the ledge

By my fingertips.

Can’t anyone see me

Slowly slipping away?

I’m losing my grip,

Almost ready to welcome the perilous fall.

I won’t drag anyone else down with me,

Not this way.

Maybe this way is better,

Letting my fingers slip,

One by one,

Like in those cartoons,

Until I soar to the cold, hard ground.

Would anyone hear the "thud--"

 

Of my skull cracked against pavement?

Of the bullet launching from the gun?

Of the knife sliding deeper?

Of the rope necklace breaking my fall?

 

…Would anyone care?

Author's Note

Sorry, it's kind of jumbled