THE CLIFF

I stood over a cliff

jagged and high

I stood as the winds

mocked and cried.

I looked to my right

I saw roses bleeding to white

For the thorns that pierced them

Were tied to my thighs.

I looked to the left

I saw a grave

Where my name was etched in sand

And the ends vanished away.

The pit opened and cried

As the mocking winds urged me on

I looked down the line

I saw a thrashing grey sea

With a thorn up its heart

The rock was black and jagged.

The winds kept saying,

"Take your thorns and leap into the storm"

"The roses were red before you had come"

"You are cold"

"I will give you warmth"

And so I dived

And the rock struck through me

Yet, the roses bled more

Through their open wounds

The blood was warm

and it gushed deeply

The sea washed all of it away.

I was cold, lonely and alone

I was cold,

lonely,

alone.