He stood over the abyss, toes curled against rock
the thirst, the hunger
the anger, the hatred
eating at his soul.
Within his mind bruised the words
of mobs chasing
who thought they were better
who thought they should know.
On his knees he crawled through filth and muck
weeping tears that none could see.
A sneer twists his lips,
wicked words that punish those;
those who thought they knew best,
those who thought they knew more.
A false thought of flight
as he jumps forth to the air
waiting for the rescue
he was certain was near.