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I'm on the edge, i'm on the verge,
i'm falling without any direction.
Being pulled, and pulling back.
And my pulling works as an opposite force,
pulls me deeper towards the ubiquitous pit.
The mouth is too wide
for me to stop myself!

© 1985 john r. chase

i can't really say why i wrote this poem, other than, teenage angst. although, in reflection on my driven meanderings of the last 10 years, it seems that perhaps it was prophetic.