My feet are by the edge.
Three hundred feet down, a steep drop.
No one would see it, no one would know, nothing would be left behind.
And yet, not a muscle moves, and I don’t know if I want them to.
My feet are by the edge.
Three hundred feet down, a steep drop.
No one would see it, no one would know, nothing would be left behind.
And yet, not a muscle moves, and I don’t know if I want them to.