This poem was inspired by the episode with Byron when he takes the mortal to the bridge and they jump. The imagery of the wine bottle breaking, instead of watching the body, really stuck with me. Please review.
The Edge A wine bottle breaks, as does a body. Drunk and high, trying to fly. Reaching for the stars. Crashing to the ground. Gravity will prevail. Living on the edge it's easy to fall, an intoxicating thrill until it's kill.
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