Failure is not an option.

I’m falling up.

It’s pushing me down,

closer and closer

to the sky.

 

The pressure is flooding

onto my shoulders:

my blood is thinning,

my shoulders are shaking.

Where is the straw?

I wish my back would break.

 

I’m screaming sideways.

It’s forcing me left,

nearer and nearer

to the edge.

 

I’m through with fighting

this relentless war:

my stores are empty,

my soul is drained.

Where is the bomb?

I wish they’d give me no option.

 

I’m sliding closer.

It’s pulling me in,

tighter and tighter

to the end.

 

I can’t stand here

in this too-hot jail:

my blood has run cold,

my tears have run hot.

I found my knife-

they can’t judge me if I’m dead.