Poem Hunter
( / Texas)


Poem By Landrey

across, and stretched tight, the way is spanned,
the rope has become the one escape.
the suit with no man tip-cuffs along,
with balance so sharp, it looks so calm.
but well on its way, the man-less suit
is pushed by the wind and flails its sleeves.
deceivingly real the suit tried hard,
but hands are a must for saving falls.
they thought he was real but fake it was.
Be true on the inside; you must be,
to live on the outside, I would know.
though suits look real nice, they've got no strength.
to balance the rope, real parts you'll need.

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