Over the Edge

Everyone has a breaking point.
Most of us never reach that place.
Some see it daily.
A trifle thing said or done,
trips a wire.

Are their brains wired differently?
Is there something missing?
What makes them want to 
approach the end so quickly?

Most do it slowly,
an inch at a time,
a hit there, and ounce there.
Their souls leak, drop by drop,
ever so slowly,
until a wasted frame is all you see.

Others do it in a flash, all at once.
Their lives cut short
ended abruptly, by their own hand.

How can they see the world so differently?
A place they no longer wish to dwell?
Trades for a cold dark hole
and to be fodder for the worms.

This I'll never understand.
The difference between them and me.l
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace