The cracks and gaps in the pavement,
Don’t tread on them or you’ll break,
That little voice in your scurrying mind,
It told you not to tempt fate.
Your body will split down the centre,
Casting half of you here and half of you there,
With your heart in the dirt,
And your brain in the air.
Each bone will snap and litter the ground,
If you admit that those cracks are there.
Like Her Type 