I'm standing near the edge of a precipice,

The swirling colors inside the cavern glitter behind my eyes, pulling me in.

And I take a step or two forward, to bask in the array of colors

The light softly kissing my face

And it's warm

And inviting.

But the longer I stand on the edge of the precipice

A darker stain seems to dot my eyelids.

The risk of everything wilting at my touch.

The memories of the light dying before.

And a soft, familiar whisper calls me from behind.

I glance back, wanting to listen.

Looking between the stained swirling colors

And the comforting feel of the familiar

I take a step back from the colors.

Because if I fell in

I would be lying about who I am.

Because I am not like you

Even if I want to be.

I can't be what you want me to

Because then I'd be lying

And I don't want to hurt you because of it.

So, I'll leave the warm invitation

For someone else to receive.

And I hope that because of it

You will be happy.