The edge
Traversed
Is narrow.
The wind
blows at your back,
Pushing you forward.
Vacillating,
You obey.
Disillusioned
At the audacity
Used
In front of your face.
You could jump
Ending the fear.
All things.
Instead, you continue
To be pushed
Along the edge.
Not strong enough
To wear your thoughts
On your sleeve.
As you pull them down
Stretched tight
to your wrist.
Trapping the heat,
Only absorbed
Into your heart
Now burning
with the desire
To step away from the edge
You traverse.
I don’t dare look down. Your poem takes me to a scary place indeed.
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Decisions, decisions ;)…
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