Edge

Hold still, I know it hurts
much more than I can judge.
You live on the very edge,
your guts exert
gravity
 you begrudge.

Hold still, I know it hurts
when once again he skirts
the pith with verbiage.
He too lives on a ledge,
his arguments integuments,
scaffolding where he can lodge.

Hold still, I know it hurts.
Precariousness imparts
this poignancy to rage.
We all must face the edge
when nakedness thwarts
and confines us in its cage.

Hold still, I know it hurts.
We live on the very edge.

 

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