He walked the tightrope
Of my subconscious
Teetering at the edge
Of every thought.
Not fully submerged
To be the only thing in my mind,
But present enough
To be a constant distraction.
Maybe one day he'll fall,
He'll lose his balance
And find that my head
Is an abyss he can't get out of.
Or maybe it'll be me
Who will be trapped
In the prison of my own making,
With walls painted with his face
And his voice echoing.
Or maybe one day he'll reach the end--
While i thought about
The consequences of him falling,
Of the tightrope snapping,
He gradually walked away.
While i piled up stones
And made bridges,
The man i made them for
Already reached the other end.
And then i'll forget
Why i built them after all.
I'll forget that once there was a man
Who walked the tightrope
Of my subconscious.
