Traps

If I could stand across the arch
With fingers crossed and hope involved,
Would you say that there is something
Left for us to have been solved?

O', the crickets chirping in the night,
They reverberate a solemn sound.
Although, I seem to think that of most
Whenever I happen to come around.

I've placed myself upon a stand,
So high above what you may think,
And, even though I haven't fallen,
I feel the pressures on the brink

Of ecstasy and broken measures.
I wistfully place myself around
The things that make me humbly swear
That there is nothing to make my ground.