White cliffs

One day we have a garment usable
Though it may have a moth hole or a tear
The next, it’s crossed the barrier  and is waste
It’s become what no one wants to wear

In this same manner, I  am near the edge.
I can  move, but all my body aches
When might  I reach the point where I am lost;
When  too strong are my wishes to escape?

I know it will very hard to judge
Some remark,some move,some  painful thought.
Some tiny thing may push me  past the edge
And so the waves on Dover Beach I’ll haunt.

Those White Cliffs where once I  walked with ease
Now with thoughts of loss , they do me tease.