My Untouchable Face

The effortless nature of the unreliable narrator

~ Saturday, February 25 ~

Once, I walked
on the side of a mountain.
Life hung between me
and the drop off.
If I leave, will you
find me in the midst
of my forest of inconsistencies
and if I rise up
with my screams
will one day
you retreat at
the locking of my knees?

Tags: poetry spilled ink writing
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