Commune

Losing myself to dredge, Tossing my mind over the edge, Reaching for my soul on the ledge. Teetering upon an edge, Filled with resentment and dredge, As if life were but a hedge— Today, in the fall, I fall from this ledge. Finding my soul, Leering through the shadows, Whispering truths I cannot hold. Night drapes over my trembling form, Thoughts like ghostly cobwebs cling, And I, hollowed and drifting, Sink into the cold cradle of nothing. Enough. I’m tired—I’ll go to bed