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Apr 2020
tightrope with balance
tethered to a fine thread.
break, swing, loom,
yet falling feels safer,
an appeal of sorts
put to test the water.
gravity drops me,
hangs hopes on a ledge.
beat, space, beat.
flow slowing, heart stopping,
digits slipping, valve skipping.
save this dear tightrope,
don’t let me fall
slash tell to let go,
winds will catch weight
waves break on walls.
tell me to let go - but only if you’ll catch
Natasha Tai
Written by
Natasha Tai  20/F/Toronto
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