Suicied Bay.

This poem is about the idea of how one minute we can be on top of the world, but sooner or later we have to come back down. I hope that the way I wrote it shows the some times savage behavour of human beings and what can use them to do somthing.
In this poem I also try to show the idea of how some people take everything for granted and never wish to understand how even the most basic events happen.
Hope you enjoy. ~

 

Standing on the edge, looking down
seeing the people rush about.
They are the ants and you're their god while you’re up so high
on this building that was built from a will of vain.

The air is thin, you gasp, with you oxygen starved lungs.

You want to take heed or take your last breath.
Not understanding the mechanics of this world, but claiming you do?
Can you see the how a bird can fly, or do you just think they float in the sky?

Standing on the tip in this building you feel King to all,
You are the master of this world.
But yet the rain does not obey you,
Nature dislikes the way you prance with that certain jig in your step.

Man built this throne, and so man should sit on it?
But did nature not make the materials,
Or hold your precious gold to its womb.
Making pieces of art, but destroying other pieces of art without even looking.

 Looking at the drop, you feel a twinge,
Hundreds of meters down.
Your people scurry along working hard.
The twinge again?
"Then jump" whispers a voice in your ear, fly ... for if you truly are the king you can do anything.

 Lifting your legs, you pounce off the building
The drop is swift,

Barely anytime for a view, the ground rushes towards you, and people scream.
The world never even has time to go blank.

The End

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