Falling is a funny thing. You think tht you are first falling and you can imagine the end result, the conclusion. You think to yourself whilst falling, I should've not jumped off the plane, or Why did I do something like that.
The worst kind of falling is slow falling, knowing what your doing, the split second inside the plane where you go, I'm so dang depressed i'm gonna jump off this here plane.
But the worst worst is the falling of one self. You can feel yourself slipping away, fragments of you crying out as they swirl endlessly down that tube of falling. That's the falling I feel, and it just isn't that great.
Now for a poetic poem
Puddle puddle on the ground,
so nice to jump and play,
but in the end when i'm found
all wet, i'll run away
the mud the water marks my face,
being nagged, my least favorite taste
perhaps its for that infant fun
I've had to give it up, done.
And that's what all the children say
that surely something happened one day
when the puddle was to small for them
or parents much to stern for them.
and the puddle goes away. |
Submission Name: Puddle on the ground
