Pedestals weren't made for people like me.
I'd rather my plateau tilted and teetered like an unsure seesaw left out in a cold winter's night.
Or rose and fell like the nervous chest of a first-time lover.
Pedestals weren't made for people like me
I was created with a purpose, not infallibility.
Flexibility of failure is embedded in my soul.
Oh! The luxury of my mind's ever-so-slight deterioration is a feeling so rare. Meddling minds and hearts place flesh and bones on frail pedestals only to prey on botched plans and goals.
Pedestals weren't made for people like me. The pleasure of frolicking and jumping dangerously into troubled waters is a natural high.
May I enjoy that?