The tightest grip Clinging, gravity forbiding my quick descent. Unwilling to reveal my muscles, blushing. So that I may carry myself on as a tired girl, And mask my strength. Tiny eruptions, My tendons don't snap. They are as stretched as my will to hang on the edge. Awaiting a grip, stonger than my fake straining fists- To let me rise onto the earth, and out of the sky.
