I can see myself in you,
struggling
to put
one foot in front of the other.
What we fail to grasp:
there is no winner, no trophy
for Disease League Champion.
Don't look down. There's nothing
more to see
but more
of nothing to see.
How can I be your railing
when it's me who needs
a stair?
It should be a simple concept...
one foot in front of the other.
Going. Coming. Yet
too tense to flee in
every which way
to move at all.
Say it like it scares me...
your paralysis becomes mine
attacking with temerity.
Spirals only flow in one direction
at a whirlpool's pace
and we have to walk ourselves
together
one foot in front of the other.
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