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Writer's pictureCecily

Balance.



A skill of human kind they say,

Has become more apparent,

Among each day.


A must have attribute,

To show you contribute.


An unspoken deed,

Nailed in your coffin,

Before you could breathe.


But how could I possibly...tangibly...

Balance on this rope,

Prove my worth,

To the world.


With buckled ankles,

Rusty shackles.


Its a challenging act.


If I fall,

Too many duties to catch.


I need I need.

I want.

I need.


These crippling desires,

Now straining my knees.


Torso thick,

Bursting with greed.

Heart so heavy,

Each beat cries a minute.


Told were never at peace,

Till we finish.


What madness is this?

Nobody's wish.


I think on the ground,

My feet will remain.


No more wobbling conditions,

Illusions,

Pointless provisions.


On Mothers soil,

I can finally relax.


This donkey show is over,

I've unburdened my back.





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27.04.24

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