Toes on the edge of the brick wall
Fingertips holding on to the ceiling
Just let go for the last freefall
Nails scraping and the cream paint peeling
Off the wall.
27th time I stand at this place,
Call me back quick
For it’s easy to lose the race
Too easy to quit.
Sun is on the wane
But the eye in the sky never blinks
Rocks below wait not in vain,
And now I will die I think.