Balanced on a razor blade
One foot above Abyss
Why have I been dealt this hand?
I did not ask for this
Living on a daggers edge
Slight breeze could make me fall
Too much pressure pushing down
How can I take it all
Pressed against my exposed throat
Is the sharp edge of a sword
Sitting in an empty room
In my lap, coils of cord
I'm standing on the rooftop
Below, someone yells 'Stop her! '
I can't stand upon a line
I'm not a tight-rope walker
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem