Photo by stefano stacchini on Unsplash
Tripped on stage flat,
Laughter echoes, cheeks turn red,
Grace, I clearly lack.
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About the Creator
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctica day ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Ugh, this was embarrassing and painful as well!