Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
(W. W. Denslow in 1904)

By the time he reached the roof, his mind was filled with all the mockery and chanting that had led him to this. Humpty dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. His breathing came in short, heavy pants as he reached the top and final step. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he pushed the door open with his large arm. The metal creaked and whines, rain ricochets off the ground. The boy’s skull began to ache from the shortness of breath and he leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold, rocky surface. He hung his head in his hands. Suddenly the still air around him fills with mournful cries, blending in with the wind. His body shuddered violently each time he gasped for air. His fingers shifted from red to white once he began to grip his hair. Humpty dumbty, Lumpy Dumpty. He shook his head to make the sounds and name disappear but they were engraved into his mind. After years of hearing this every day, it was hard to forget. They always sing it. Why do they sing it? Like a chant that has over-ran his being. He moved his hand to wrap them around his short legs. His white skin looked blurry behind his tears. His body explodes with exhaustion. Weakly he picked himself off the ground and walked to the edge, his footsteps zigzagging forward. Once he reached it, he threw his hands on the concrete ledge and screamed. He wasn't worried someone would hear him; they never listened when he screamed before. Why start now? At the end.
His yell expanded and twisted in with the wind, which howled along with him. Nothing could stop him. No one was here to tell him that they loved him or that they wanted him to get off the roof and get somewhere dry. Only the people yelling at him to go away are with him now, scowling him and whispering overbearing words of hate. He staggered backwards, his fingers returned to his hair as he groaned. Unbelievable pain expanded from his chest, all over his body. His skin seemed to be replaced with egg-shells and his mind shifted into mush. He just wanted to end it. All the laughing. All the names. All the hate for himself and life. End it all.
By the time he pulled himself up, he was reciting the chant faster and louder, using it as motivation. Every time he looked to the ground below his heart restricts and he let out another whimper. The wind had calmed down by then and the rain has shifted to a drizzle. He closed his eyes and sighed, lifting his arms, the slow breeze embracing him. It lifted up the loose fabric of his shirt and cooled his face. Then the soft wind turned swiftly into a rapid, skin removing gust. He swore he felt all his organs dance around inside him. He can hear the impossibility loud atmosphere exploding his eardrums. The seemingly endless tears were torn from his eyes.
The ground came quicker then he thought. It took him so long to get up there, mostly because he stopped a few times. He took the elevator up and down, thinking this through. The pain dug deeper as his breaths slow down, but yet he didn’t really feel anything. He can sense that his arm was bent, his leg shattered. He was aware that he was lying in a pool of his own blood. But he couldn’t feel it. He had this strange sensation of…what was that? Peace? Maybe. It could be the tranquility of finally reaching the end.
He can hear people. He listened to a woman scream and a man telling everyone to back up. Soon the sounds of ambulance vehicles and police men entered his slowly muffling ears. They surrounded his body, enclosing him. The voices started to all mingle together, all forming the same question. Who is he? No one knew, no one would ever know. He won’t be remembered as a person, only as a sick punch line of a joke. As his world began to slip into blackness, he could only remember one thing:
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.