Suicide View

I am on the edge of the world, taken aback by the endless noise made by abrupt mores of once relevant beings. Cultivated by perilous ambient. Molded into morosity. Lights blinking, cars moving. Someone is shouting. Do not look down. Did you hear me? Darkness. Oblivion. Void. They know you. You've been visiting them. Always wondering. Myriad of curiosity flooded my psyche. Never write me a song nor a poem. I do not deserve your words. The street deserves my blood. This is my wish.