I’m tired of walking along the edge. I want to jump in and see if it’s warm and comforting or if it’s cold and suffocating; if I’ll swim or if I’ll drown.

I’m tired of walking along the edge. Only seeing a glass surface, not knowing what’s below; seeing the mirror of myself warp with ripples running through.

I’m tired of walking along the edge. Having my bare feet scraped and scarred by the broken shells and glass; damage and residue left behind by those before me.

I’m tired of walking along the edge. I want to lie down and rest, feel peace and laugh. But I must stay guarded ever listening, watching, protecting myself from the possibilities.

I’m tired of walking along the edge. There should be flowers and trees, animals drinking, kids playing. But I have kept it all away, harboring here as if it was my own.

I’m tired of walking along the edge. Maybe its time for me to go.

(2000)

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