Cut Eight-Knot

To feel is a scary circumstance.
It’s like all those things
And those people that matter most
Have all the control.

Too many chances to get tangled,
Too dependent on something, someone,
Which the world has already proven
Can never fully be relied on.

Cutting the rope, inch by inch,
Day by day, friendship by friendship.
Cutting the rope so short
That you can never form a knot.

A rope that if you throw it out,
No one could possibly latch on.
Stillness. Infinite stillness.
Smooth as glass waters beginning to end.

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