Thin Line: A Prose-Poem

Shooting stars spot across vision that never keeps the wishes but walks a tightrope 
tirelessly trying not to look down but feeling attacked by crazed crocodiles 
slipping, sliding into purpose, the maws with jagged teeth that cuts at you 
feeling, fleeting moments where the trajectory is tried, forever changed 
you lift your feet, leery about what's beneath you so you don't fall into a trap 
never feeling sane, soundlessly serene because rest isn't for you 
but the big break is, your efforts are faltering, failing 
so you keep shifting your legs upward, onward to the sky 
when in reality, you are so much closer to the break 
binding yourself to a self-sabotaged fate 

Photo by Ranga on Unsplash