Fall. 

Walking tightropes,

Scarce threads,

Holding me close, 

To be bound by such ties, 

Breathing deeper,

Scared I might fall.
Thunder storms,

Crackling louder as they come, 

What a sight,

A mind yelling at you to move,

But a body,

A body demanding you to fall. 
So you hide,

Just as you usually do,

Underground,

As deep as this world will go,

It moves and you follow,

That’s it,

A follower,

And when they fall,

You fall too. 
With no protection,

No rope left,

All strings frayed,

No longer hidden, 

Don’t you get it?
You fell along time ago. 

(So what’s the point in fighting).
~MM

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