Hanging by my Fingertips


Fingertips

 

I’m hanging by my fingertips to the edge of the world.
It wasn’t something I was planning to be honest.
I suppose I was just being nosey
Investigating if the grass really was greener etc.
And now here I am
Hanging by my fingertips to the edge of the world.
I sneak a look at what lies below my feet
But I can only see an uncertain mist
Whipped by a wind that seems to whisper let go.
But can I?
Should I?
Why would I?
My fingertips are starting to ache
It’s hard to hang on to the edge of the world.
But I find strength as I do so
As I’m holding onto the familiar
It maybe the edge of the world but it’s my edge and I don’t want to let go.
The mist below me swirls melodramatically
Did I glimpse something beyond it?
What are my eyes drawn to down there?
If I fall will I fall forever?
An eternity of regret?
I’m hanging by my fingertips to the edge of the world.
I might let go in a minute
If I’m brave enough.

 

Sometimes you’re just having one of those days/weeks/lives……

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