Climb

Haven't written in a while and soon there will be a big write-up on how I'm dealing with depression, but for now, a bit of late-night fluff.

Out here on the edge,
Dangling on the ledge.
There's not much room for moralizing.
And certainly none for exercizing
Anything but restraint.
The temptation is there
To sucumb to the taint.
Wake in the night
and cackle yourself to sleep
instead of counting sheep
and hope that your enemies take flight.

But that's no way to live.
That's a way to fall.
The temptation is there,
to throw it all away.
Laugh, and fall without a care.

But you can't.
It's an art.
Fingers are bloody
as you dig yourself in.
Turn your back on easy,
Turn your back on sin.
Grit your teeth,
swallow your pride -
and climb.

There are no edges.
There are no ledges.
There are no sickening drops.
There are only doors.
And gore-soaked floors.
And sometimes someone will call the cops.

Dance with fire,
Dodge the frost,
there is no way the game is lost
Just dig your fingers in,
Swallow your pride -
and climb.

Everything has locks.
Everyone is shocked.
You've got to let yourself be free.
You've got to forge yourself a key.
The world is full of soot and flame,
and nothing ever stays the same,
but everything has locks,
so just pull up your socks -
and climb.