with the highs and the lows
and with everything
in the middle ground
and with this mystical grace
and poise
i could have sworn
that i was following this path
line by fucking line
i guess maybe
i might’ve tripped on my own folly
and the line got folded
and i somehow managed
to box me into a maze
and so falling to my death
from the pedestal
like a mirrorball shining for everyone else
over the dance floor
for the last two dreamy-eyed lovers
who waltz gracefully
shrouded in a dazzling airy haze
but not anymore
for alas,
this mirrorball, fallen to the ground
shattered to a million pieces
but even then in those pieces
you could see me in the distant past
me and my mistakes
me and my triumphs
me and my prudence
me and my folly
me and my strength,
me and my weakness.
I don’t know now
what matters and what doesn’t
so don’t ask me
I’m just trying
to get through these 24 hours.