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I ride a tight rope.

Walking the hot coals, treading on egg shells

I have burned bridges too; what with this inability to take risks

the melt of resistance, is only temporary after all

sizzling exchanges, I like, but it depends on the fire we’re funneling and channeling

the eyes, they rouse the embers, and exorcise long forgotten demands

smells and sounds of country only do to birth beautiful dreams

I refuse to hope this time, because that is a little too much

But hope I hold with a firm grip, I am desperate to hope but only for truth.

I am both winner and loser, being I cannot escape myself, but with this knowledge I live.