Sand engulfs my hand,
Sinking it farther in to the trap.
I choose not to bask here in the sun,
Wet tendrils of hair drying to my skin,
As the air whips at skin’s softness,
Burning and breaking the surface,
I wish to dive
Back into the water,
The clouds roll in like ashen arms,
Mingling with the sulfuric haze.
Breathing into longest lungs,
I want to break free and cry,
Cry for sweet release,
Not stare aimlessly
At towering mountain peaks
Imprisoning my lone form,
Afraid for my life,
That one breath
Might steal away my soul,
Leaving it to fly
On the breaking breeze,
Carrying it somewhere faraway
To burn and smoulder
To ashes and dust.
I pray the tide comes quickly.
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