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(7)
by beetle
Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1548426
Safety, and balloons, and--I don't even remember *what* I was thinking when I wrote this.
a balloon

anchored to earth
by a bit of string

(clean
white
more wish
than substance

barely a slip of a thing
to keep me chained so)

i am safe
shackled to that
which scorns me

safe

but the fear is this

what will hold me
when you too
fly away?
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