Out On The Brink

She carried lightly all her thoughts
Up to this late disaster;
So much within a secret self
She thought had long been past her —

She lost herself amid the lights,
And felt the city seething,
Out on the brink, the precipice,
Where all that’s left

Is breathing

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

2 thoughts on “Out On The Brink”

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