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On Edge
September 13, 2015
I spoke to myself
Of the pit in my stomach
Of the cold in my chest
Of the emptiness in my limbs
And all I ever did was
Tiptoe on edge
Of a personal chasm
The ridges resembled my bones
The soupy fog were my thoughts
My guilt was the river
All I wanted was to fly out in the blood-red sky
But my wings were broken.........
© By Katie C., Lorton, VA
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