Damage Control
I fight myself
scared shitless
won't give up safety
and risk being scattered to the wind.
Nonchalant remarks
that I don't give a damn
while a whisper
in my ear leaves
miles of shaking.
Drowning, I speak louder
opting for the safety of
distance.
Always leave a path
to the door
for the all-important
illusion of dignity.
I dream of you
standing at the edge
and there I am.
Are we walking forward
into the mouth of the unknown
or do we each have plans
to leave the other
behind?
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