Sweat beads on the surface I'm so nervous, walking a barbed tight rope of life's purpose like I'm in the circus. If I fall my existence is worthless, observers cheering saying devil spear him when he hits the surface. Endless wind of negativity from the breath of jealousy threatens each contemplated step taken to escape captivity. Proclivity to flee no longer an instinct for me, pumping the blood of deceit to a brain screaming retreat. Refusal to lose refuels exacted determination to survive in my life according to my rules. I'm certain I pull the strings so the puppet masters working, and the show doesn't stop until I drop the curtain. -LIV
