Edge

I'm half way off the edge
afraid of being stopped
for what it's worth 
I made my way to the top
What's the use in guardian angels
when I've no wings to guide
I live beneath the thorns and weeds
this pain will never subside
I run and when I jump
I lose all sense of sound
and for a moment I feel 
what it is to be alive
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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