The Tightrope, the Teacup, the Line

The tightrope walker, the teacup, the line of cocaine. Oh, so fragile. One wrong move, one mistake, and it all crashes down.

The tightrope walker, all eyes on them. The pressure is on. One false move and the world could come crashing down around them. The whole world will see it. Echoing around is the laughter, the cruel smiles, taunting, tormenting, pointing. As they fall.

The teacup, fragile and worn. It is cracked. The porcelain is wearing thin. Just the tiniest little butterfly could end it all. CRASH Laying at the bottom of a black hole. White, sharp, waiting. Waiting for someone to pick up the pieces.

The line of cocaine, oh, so familiar. You know you shouldn't do it. Who knows if this is it? The last hit, this one could end it all. It sits there, calling to you. What could it hurt? You take the risk, the white powder stinging your sinuses pleasantly. Fade to black.

Are you the tightrope walker? The teacup? Who or what is your cocaine? Think about it.