The comic distant ladder
T. H. Cayne
My pain sharpens the words
that you spread, in which you believe so
Climbing far above me,
you try to kick off the runges
so as to force me to the floor of the stair house.
Where you let me sleep every night
without sleep every night
And I guess that's where I should be.
Regretting the times when I still did matter.
Because the flight starts below.
Not at the top of your comic