Poetry

detachment

But in time
you’d understand
what kept me
from falling.

The wind
stopped blowing
for some time.

I walked away
tired and hopeless
from the edge
of the precipice.

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Poetry

the man at the cliff

He might fall.

Three words that triggered
a lot of thoughts and memories
back to my mind.
Three words that wouldn’t
make sense unless you hear
the rest of the line.

…he’s always on the edge.

And that is where the problem lies.

Daily Post’s Edge.

P.S. This was previously titled as ‘just on the edge.’ 

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