The things I juggle
Leave my fingers
Bruised & bloody
But,
As long as I keep them up
My neck is safe.
The blocks will degrade
And I will end up holding
A palm full of grit
A world.
A world I can throw
And rearrange.
Change.
Concrete Blocks
Posted bysickybeatPosted inIdentity, Life, Words, Language, and ImageryTags:ability, identity under stress., Persistence
Published by sickybeat
I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty View more posts
SickyBeat 