“Circus Act”

I walk the tightrope that is my life

Only to slip into its frayed remains

While below the spectators laugh

And point fingers that, from this distance

Seem to me like the long-gone thoughts

I used to believe were my safety net

I climb upwards into the beginning

Of my fall, convinced that falling

From this height is better than standing

On solid ground. I have come to accept

That my feet will soon tumble just as

My mind has finally allowed itself free

Reign, and I can hear the warning bells

Echo in the chambers of a soon-to-be empty tent

The ringmaster has forgotten me before,

I should step off my rope before it becomes my noose

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