I’ve spent an age
Clinging to this precipice
Wind whipping my hair
Fingers straining to grip

If I let go
I’ll jump and fall
Without knowing
If there are arms waiting
And waiting

I’ve spent an age
Almost letting go
Catching myself
So I don’t fall into you

At any time
I could stand
And walk away
Down the rolling valley below

So at what point
Does Almost
Mean I’ve already jumped
And just haven’t fallen?


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