Towards The Ledge

Murmurs in the darkness against the stomping of feet.
Bare foot pressing cold earth, hands shoving the next.
Wandering blindly in the night, fear the motivator.
Rotating phases of panic and calm, hope and angst.
This momentary pause a tired surrender to trampling.
The rage pushes forward and the mass surges on faster.
Am I pushing the next or simply shoved from behind?
The hate drove us running, screaming into the crowd,
Whilst the night itself laughed at us in hysterical fits.
But in calm hues the day breaks lazily on the horizon.
And you can hear the crying out in joyful expression.
As the frontlines raise their hands in hopeful cheers,
We near our perpetual destination of prosperous life.
But in a step I falter, as do we all, achieving freefall.
Traveling into another dementia as we slowly realize,
The glorious land below undefined from our vista point,
Was the same place we abandoned in riotous grief.
And plunging head first into the depths of fate I see below,
The local denizens point skyward and shriek as collections
of humanity rain down upon them at a constant rate.
And before we land, as hope dies away into resignation,
we see the people below running in maddened fear,
driven by hate into the night to begin a new parade,
a final collective end that continues on and on and on.

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