bench

 

I love the imperfection of it all.

 

To live life is to go with its flow, without much synchronisation.

The wasted time, the said words, the did things. They give me satisfaction.

 

But only so much.

 

For when I balanced myself on the bench, it is to feel the excitement without falling. To stand up straight, feet on the ground but floating.

Breathing in the scent of grass and sky at the same time.

 

Those are what I feel, create life.

 

Until I fall.

Face flat on the ground, scraped hands and knees. One gulp, to swallow the blood and pain.

 

And then I realised. Life too, needs boundaries. It comes with rules.

Each foot moves in rhythm. Arms wide apart. Head up straight.

Life is a dance to be practised.

 

This head is my heart. This soul is my body.

Those are my rules.

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