A stupid poem, written by someone who is bipolar.

I'm so close to the edge,
just ready to leap from the ledge.
Into the dark abyss,
full of things we longer miss.
I walk through the crowded graveyard,
just to hear the tales of the tireless bard.
The crows fly,
as I watch the child die.
Sad but fair,
no  one want's to really care.
In the end,
we go with the wind.
The old man weeps.
as the vine creeps.
With a sigh,
I fly so high.
I drown in the abyss,
with no one to miss.