Where feet may fail

April 10, 2016 § 1 Comment

In a sense, he’s a fool. In a sense, he’s not a fool.

I grave myself in a cloak of vulnerability, that he sees through with ease. I’m the lone gazelle that the predator targets to hunt over the herd of water buffaloes because it takes much less effort.

I can’t escape his coming, because he will be coming. So the question is, do I fight or give in? I can’t do this alone, in oceans deep, where feet may fail.









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