Life on the Rim
some sort of balance
The glass is my life, and it balances like it has a right
A life balanced like there's no tomorrow,
Slowly spilling secrets, eyebrows furrowed,
The rim of the glass cannot hold all the stories of my past.
I feel my fingers tremble. They ask: Am I old or new?
My white hairs are falling, should I still dye them too?
Feeling like I cannot breathe freely,
Tipping wildly on my toes, as my world is tilting,
and dangerously so.
Will the glass spill?
This is now the moment before I pour it all out or hold it in.
There's no turning back,
All my life pouring as I witness its tilt,
waiting for my command, a decision I still withstand.
About the Creator
Gabriela Trofin-Tatár
Passionate about tech, studying Modern Journalism at NYU, and mother of 3 littles. Curious, bookaholic and travel addict. I also write on Medium and Substack: https://medium.com/@chicachiflada & https://chicachiflada.substack.com/
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Comments (1)
A great analogy for where you are and what might (or might not) happen