Poem about the futility of trying to keep your life in balance and just letting go a little
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  BalanceI’m sick of percentages.I’m sick of numbers.I just want to be.Balance is a just a conceptIt is not the key.Am I happy?Am I sad?Wait. Hmmm ..Let me do the math.I’ll have a slice now please.Wait. I can only have one?Who the fuck made that rule?Maybe I want another piece.Extremes seem the norm.Let me have my highsMy lowsLet me fuck it up andmake it up to you tonight by giving you a rose.The ratio of me to you and whatyou mean to my heart cannot bemeasured on scales or by a straightedge ruler set against my life or torn apart into segmented precise stripsand weighed in a cart to be sentto auction and bartered for or bought.Balance is an illusion thatFools embrace to make lifeSafe and orderly and put inits place.I want to take that rideWhere nothing and everything is possibleAnd it’s okay…it’s okayto be that way.  There is no balancing on thehead of a pin, no precarious perchI have to lend my life to or Prescribe to until the veryEnd.Just let it beUnfettered, unshackledFree.
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