Precipice Poem by John Sensele

The heart as fragile as bent
At night when the pain
Grows more intense than meant
So that convulses in strands of strain.

If you sight the drain in your revulsion
And feel nothing more than pretence
It is because the convulsion
In your assessment is the sentence

Your missiles and fissile munition
Swerve in the verve your indifference
Dishes out given the acrid ammunition
You've stocked aplenty in the conference

You and your heart hold
Basking in the insanity
From which my joy you withhold
Till the return of serene sanity

Assuming sanity strikes a deal
To pull you from the abyss
Where all at once you peel
Veneers of the salvation you miss.