Pride goes before a fall,
pulling our hands with a sure smile,
telling us this is the edge
we will fly off of.
That onlookers will have no choice
but to admire us in awe.
It knows nothing at all.
This is no trial,
there is an end over that ledge.
As they glance above
they raise their voices
but merely to guffaw.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoetryPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
