He Falls


He wanders from his suite, looking below

the distance is great between his fall

and the cold concrete below.


He see’s the dark faces walking below

where do they go in such a hurry, to

a happier end I pray?


Do they go to a loved one or run from

one who took their heart?

It isn’t written for a broken heart to

jump to meet death below on that

cold concrete that will be red.


So let me try to shower all my love this

night as I write alone and afraid how I



I can run from this, but I can’t hide.

my foolish pride stops me as alone I ponder

what the flight would be like as I soar like

a winged wounded bird to the bottom

awaiting my sudden end.


Love all the people and shower them

with it for rain only washes away the pain

for a while it cleans our souls and mends our

hearts and then we live again another day

in this naked of nights, this city of lights.


Let me watch this night go down in fire

and sinking into the sea of drowning golden

fire I burn as I look so far down to the concrete

that is my Hell.


I wish I could dance naked in the forest night and

hear the trees sing to me like old time above the

black forest tree tops so high. Let me climb the

concrete railing and try to feel the flow of the air

and the currents that takes me below on the crowning

of my demise and splatter below.


Let the fall be quick, let the soul be released, let the

heart takes flight and leaves a mark for those who may

remember me as I fall.



© Copyright Vincent Moore 2012. All Rights Reserved.


He Falls — 4 Comments

    • Well thank you Dim for the wonderful praise of my work, as always you are one of my biggest supporters and I appreciate that so much. Hugs

    • Ha Ha, I was wondering where the bedroom came into play, maybe that’s where I penned from. I do enjoy writing in bed on occasion.

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