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By the Cliff


I was a drunken soul, 

When I reached the cliff, 

But sober enough to stop at the edge. 

I stopped and thought why would I stop. 

What feeling is better than 

Floating freely in the air, 

Feeling light and unburdened. 

What feeling is better than, 

flying with the birds

And falling among the flawed trees.

No romantic ecstasy can compete

with that feeling. 

Everything I left at that house, 

Isn't mine to go back, 

But everything that awaits beyond 

this cliff is mine to embrace. 

The cold chills me asking

is it the right time? 

When is the right time? 

When is the right time to float? 

I'm sober enough to remember

My pain, 

No drinking can diminish its essence, 

No party can fade its dominance. 

Happiness was a distant cousin, 

Who would come like Christmas. 

Yet I kept the Christmas lights for a longer time, 

Hoping to keep the darkness away, 

and Christmas never came as I hoped. 

But this cliff, its emptiness, and stillness

beckons like a witch, 

A sad witch looking for a company

in her solo existence. 

My soul is excited, 

It hopes to find joy beyond the cliff, 

If only joy exists in filth and decayed bodies. 


A. C


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