Short leashes

How comically delicate is the tether of the human. Feeble against even the simplest jostling. Easily frayed, frequently strained.

How woefully asunder the hinges are that we cling to. Broken apart day after day and reattached bunglingly. It happens so often we rarely have the time to source better parts. So we content ourselves to walk through the day, willing shotty parts to see us through the other side.

How absurdly we accept for ourselves short leashes with which to walk the world. How foolishly we continually claim the task of running ourselves aground. How peculiarly commonplace it has become for us to not advocate for better. How profoundly sad it is indeed that we dare not use our voices.

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