This poem isn’t mine, I am sharing it. Credit goes to the show Bojack Horseman.
Secretariat steps up onto the stool, ready to perform.
“A poem. Original, obviously. It’s called ‘The View from Halfway Down.'” He cleared his throat and shifted the pages in his hands.
The weak breeze whispers nothing
The water screams sublime
His feet shift, teeter-totter
Deep breath, stand back, it’s time
Toes untouch the overpass
Soon he’s water bound
Eyes locked shut but peek to see
The view from halfway down
As the audience claps, a door with an abyss on the other side shines in the spotlight to the right of the performer. He wasn’t finished.
“I’m not done! Hold on, I’m not done. Not done,” he assured to the door. It faded away.
A little wind, a summer sun
A river rich and regal
A flood of fond endorphins
Brings a calm that knows no equal
You’re flying now
You see things much more clear than from the ground
It’s all okay, it would be
Were you not now halfway down
The door appeared in the spotlight, only closer to you. Time is running out. Your hands begin to shake.
Thrash to break from gravity
What now could slow the drop
All I’d give for toes to touch
The safety back at top
The door appears closer sooner than expected, I couldn’t take it anymore. The host walked up to me.
“I change my mind! I- I change my mind, I don’t wanna-“
“It’s okay.”
He gently put his hand on my back, holding me in place as the door faded away. With the clock ticking in my head, I continued.
But this is it, the deed is done
Silence drowns the sound
Before I leaped I should’ve seen
The view from halfway down.
The door was behind me, I felt it. I threw the host’s hands off me.
No! I- I really should’ve thought about the view from halfway down!
“Find your peace, big guy. Find it,” the host said, placing his hand on me as I shrinked. I was out of time and I had to go.
I wish I could’ve known about the view from halfway d—
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