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Anchored

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There are tiny golden anchors
tattooed upon the bottom of my two feet.
Although drawn meticulously, pricked to bring pain,
hardened by calluses to lock in their ink.

These golden anchors,
follow everywhere I travel,
holding my feet down to the floor.
They are my internal gravity.

I keep my balance as I slowly
dance upon the beam,
eager to reach the end with praise.
I place my feet softly,
but the anchors push them down.
I now know I’ll never fly aloft,
With these golden masses forever embroidered.





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paradise-of-hell said...
Dec. 14, 2009 at 9:41 am
Interesting, i love the idea thats going on here, i wish though you would have put what made you decide to write this!!! Keep Writing, for i loved it :)
 
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