You rest on the tip of his thumb
That tinge of green
Tainting his skin; the effects of
The night before from
Your copper coat wasting
New dawn, new day,
Heads, you’re fine
Tails, insane
He hesitates,
This time, the luck of the fall
Won’t just affect the fickle few
The weak one wakes, smiles,
Unaware that she still lingers
On the edge of a peaceful
Window ledge, leaning over
She can see you
But you’re still rotating
In the unforgiving air
Heads, you’re okay
Tails, unfair
Wincing, as you slam
Onto pavement from
His outstretched hand
You spin, the voices waiting
Endless, maybe
Then you slow
That final shudder
Before collapse
Heads, you’re sorted
Tails, sacked
And the monarch bows
Strained beneath the weight
Of another day failing
To make the darkness cease
In your eyes, she sees it coming
Hears you breathing,
Knows her fate
Heads, if only
Tails, too late.
