An Edge

There is an edge
that runs till eternity
and I am standing on it.
It is excessive communication
on one side and
A narcissistically turned deaf ear
on another.
And I stand here bleeding.
Innumerable masks of relationships
pass by of smiling.
A smile that is honed by
virtue and experience;
of which, I cannot tell
what plays a bigger part.
And so I stand on the edge, bleeding.
For I cannot enshoe my feet
nor learn from past.
My mad mind keeps trotting
up, and down the way.
And I stand on the edge bleeding.

I bleed of broken expectations, promises.
They were simple and honest.
And now they stand broken.
So I bleed of them.

I bleed of my own thoughts,
my fantasies and dreams.

I bleed of myself
standing on the edge
that runs till eternity.

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