Sometimes I clamber over weak wooden fences to stand on the edge of a ridge.
My toes peeking over onto nothing, I'll close my eyes and raise my arms, trying to feel like Christ.
I'll start to lose my balance and tip forward. Every time, I'll catch myself and move back onto safety, back onto reality.
Every time, I'll slink back home, and on the way, I'll hate myself for taking that one step back.
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