The Edge of the Ocean.

Without a thought.

Without a word.

Without that tiny little bird.

I hear a whisper.

A voice inside my head.

"Do it.

"What else could you have to do instead."

I'm at that place. Where I can't feel.

Where nothing in this world seems real.

I'm inside that box.

That empty little box.

I can't find the seams. This must just be a really bad dream.

But if this was a dream,

I wouldn't feel so ashamed.

I wouldn't want to hang my feet off the edge of a cliff.

Just going, gone.

Drift.

But I am so sick of falling.

So sick of trying to catch up. Why am I so far gone.

I feel something grab at me.

I feel something pull me from the edge.

The mist of the sea,

It builds a quiet ledge.

A ledge of for my memories.

A ledge for my regrets.

The ones that I get all lost and twisted.

What a mess.

But you have me.

I'm not falling.

I'm only dangling.

Dangling from the sea mist's ledge.

And now I'm holding on for dear life.