Fallen
The air whispers its hymns of remorse in the ears,
Of a young lad,
Atop a steeple,
Trembling in fear.
An awful way it is to live all alone,
With no kin,
With no acquaintances,
Exhaustion is prone.
The slip of his tongue sets a chain of events,
That would lead him to this,
To take the step,
For mistakes that he resents.
Falling,
Fallin-,
Falli-
Fall.
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