Sitting on a Rooftop

Sitting on the rooftop for all to see,

The clock tower sits at a quarter to three,

Looking down feeling so empty of fear,

Picking up, opening and chugging a beer,

What hope is there when All seems lost,

Thinking about a future I want at all cost,

I feel like breathing is hard to take,

When all around me is at stake,

Wanting to slip into fantasy and dreams,

Tears roll down my face like river and streams,

Tonight, I say, is dark, bleak and with little light,

My future is hollow and blackness with no sight,

Those who read this and think of me,

Be at peace because these words are not a plea,

Think about those near and in need,

Sometimes we tend to be blind to those that bleed.