The Edge

It's hard to see how close we are to the edge.

We'd be dead with just one step.

Just one move--we'd lose our way.

Every day, on the brink of insane


A fragile line to separate the sides

A subtle pull holding wrong from right

Just one tear could break the thread.

A fatal mess when the white meets the red.


It's a battle on the inside.

My demons and my conscience--a constant fight.

Won't You come to me and give me strength,

Lest black and white do fade and turn to grey.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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