Control is the rusty metal bar in Middle School gym class.
Your hands gripped around it,
Your feet dangling in the air.
Your friend beside you laughing, asking who can hold on the longest.
But eventually both of your knuckles turn red,
Your palms rubbed raw.
One of you will let go first,
But eventually both of you will grow tired.
You’ll hear the teacher’s whistle calling out,
And you’ll both have to surrender to gravity’s weight until your feet hit the ground.
Published by Alanna Higdon
Hey! I'm Alanna.
I am a freelance writer who specializes in blog & social media content. I love serving small business owners, to help them create consistent content that will attract new customers.
A little bit more about me, I was born on the west coast but have lived on the east coast for most of my life. I graduated from college in 2019 as a Sociology major. I'm a lover of cats, coffee, horror movies, rollercoasters, night time walks! You can always follow me on my Instagram for more information and daily updates.
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