The Cycle

| November 20, 2013 | 0 Comments

By Jaida Sloan

It was a game.

One I always lost.

When I got on the tightrope I closed my eyes and I said this time Ill make it cross this time love would last but as I got close to the end of the rope he cut the cord once again.

So I started over with a new one.

I found myself falling as if I had the butterfly flew away and the bees in my stomach started to sting.

They told me things I didn’t want to hear and the rope was cut again.

So I finally gave in and went into the dark were I would feel nothing and the rain feel from my eyes.

Then I heard someone saying cross my rope between and so I cross the rope and the voice kept his promises.

As I wait for the applause at the end of this mission a new cycle began.

Category: Short Story

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