every pencil has an eraser
for everyone make mistakes
and you need to practice
to perfect a masterpiece.

I ran and ran                                                
from the unknown and                          
I found a broken bridge -                                  
an exit                                                
from this land                                    
full of fears.                              

I looked down                        
it was deep                  
I couldn't see                  
its end                    
my legs grew stiff.            
Shaking,                                    
I sniffed                                
the courage left                      
in the thin air              
and exhaled                    
a short loud shout    
releasing from my mouth      
a huge amount                  
of thick, black smoke              
of which I assumed                              
was the remaining fear        
which my guts              
have been aching    
to let go.

and then I bent a little -          
focused every energy                            
left in my body,                  
every drop of hope                        
left in my heart,                                  
every courage                                              
left in my lungs -                                  
to my legs                                
to my ankles                                      
to my feet.                                                  

Hoping to reach the other side,                                                                          
I closed my eyes                                                                                                

and *jumped.