It's cold
Six floors up,
On the roof,
Even wrapped
Against the wind,
Thick clothes
Not enough
For the concrete
Below me.
And I've waited.
Lain here.
Patient,
But so cold.
Waited.
And it's now
I see you
At the window
Enlarged
In the sights
As my finger
Caresses
The trigger.
1 comment:
should we be worried?
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