I was sitting on the 19th floor of a building.
Waiting, contemplating, thinking.
Waiting for my decision.
Contemplating my suicide.
Thinking of the demons.
My legs hanged off like balloons, moving freely.
The drop wasn't scary.
It was comforting, as if welcoming me, beckoning me to come closer.
To let go.
I resisted, instead thinking of the satisfaction the demons will have at the thought of yesterday's victim.
M E
I wonder....when I will finally give in to the pressure.
When my inevitable doom is to resurface...when it will be my end.
YOU ARE READING
Silence
PoetryThere was only one word that would describe her inevitable doom. D E A T H Don't copy or else....
