II Poetry Contest: Are we all the same or aren’t we, fundamentally?

by Sarah

I’m trying to learn.
I’m not what I’m meant to be.
With intention, I seek remedy.
Inclusion, exclusion, insightful delusion. Fear, pain, strain. Let go and be there, nowhere. Bob aimlessly in a narrative of smoke, mirrors and hot air.
To care or not?
Life isn’t dramatic, it’s made so. Height is a dangerous thing if you’re let go. Go to explore what isn’t really there. Allowed to float away fearless, weightless, insecure. Lose yourself, your mind, body, your soul and find them pinned to you, wrapped in cotton wool.
See a reflection that doesn’t recall. A new disconnect, birthed, out of it all..
and the disturbing realisation you reach at a point: This is my responsibility. If I let go, I’ll fall.

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