I swing between happiness and misery,
back and forth, from lowest to highest
It's a matter of time before the rope collapses,
and throw me
out there to the unknown
The wind of life pushes me,
sometimes my mistakes,
sometimes the unfairness
I happen to think about letting go,
No more hanging on,
but it's not the fear of falling that holds me back, it's the hunger of the wolves waiting down there
So I keep swinging,
until the butterflies I feel in my stomach turns into horror,
terrifying the living soul out of me
Hoping one day the swing just stops,
but not at the lowest point as it usually does,
at the towering point where I forget about all of my regrets.
YOU ARE READING
Between Notes and Tacenda: The Prose of Life
PoetryIn the spaces between our spoken words and the silence that follows, life unfolds a tapestry woven from the notes we play and the tacenda we carry. For Tina, my anchor in this sea of words.
