Poetry

Tiptoeing along the needle I look down
Below me is chaos, despair, and no hope
All it takes is one gust of wind or one push
And I go spiraling down into the pit
My nerves are on a needle are they’re about to snap
Nerves? Actually I got none left, they’re all numb
It’s gone past my nerves and got into my head
The edge of a needle is no place to be.