Living life on a single strand.
One strand of breath
A strand of care
A strand of worry,
Step by step, trying to save ourselves from death.
It was never easy.
To know your steps were not taken freely:
Walking on strands, trying to balance until someone understands
Life is quiet. Walking on a tight rope.
All you have is your heart and soul, as your breath tries to cope.
Some days, we may encounter a special figure.
Not constrained or chained but
Its only feature.
“Happiness”, they call it
But we had already accused it of misdemeanor.
Life is fear, even in our wildest hopes.
We try to hold time and bend it
Like wizards with fear of losing it.
Running after wild hopes, often
Because our true desires is perhaps bound to be slopes
We’re scared. So we’re living on a tight rope.
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