365 Days · Poetry

213 – On Top Of The World

I sat, my feet dangling over the edge of the gutter.
Usually I was terrified of heights, but not today.
Today I was tempting the exhale of fate because
What else was there? There was the hollow ache
Of feeling like there was no adventure left in the
World, and there was the exhilarated high of doing
Something I knew I should not be doing at all. So
I sat on the edge of the building, edge of the world
And I looked at it all for what it seemed to me to be.
It was the ant-farm and for a moment I was the giant
Not swallowed whole by the world, but on top of it.

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