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April 19, 2012 / edwardonbebop

I love that poem.

kite flying for manic depression

Once more I pause
paralysed on the edge
of my man-made abyss;
echoes of my past
eager to push me over
with a well-aimed phrase or
to throw me a rope burn
to my still open wounds.

Her words; weight to my descent;
lure me back
into her comfortable fold
between the horizon
and the drowning sea
tempted if I return
to my madness, my mistress
you will slip forever
from my reach.

© D Archer April 2012

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