I sit on the ledge staring down
At the lights of the billboards
Of women in fancy lingerie,
The cars driving steadily past
Like they’re on a production line,
Their driver lulled into
A false sense of conditional security
By the pantomime life society has encaged us in.
And I sit here, feeling so real
I can’t even bear to let myself think,
Because when I ask myself
What this all means, I don’t have an answer,
I used to have an answer.
The pavement serenades me,
Promising it’ll never let me go,
Romanticising the steel grip of finality,
But I’m not sure death means anything either,
I just want to feel something
For the sake of knowing that I’m alive,
And that somebody actually cares
That I’m still miraculously here.
© Richela Rosales Maroto 2019