Present Existence
I stare seemingly downinto the ancient thrashing waters.
As the young faces beneath blur
my broken face fades forever from sight,
as if taken further down to the fire.
Stuck on the sands,
on the fickle edge i lie,
not able to go on hard earth,
or into pure waters.
My wrists bleed onto the grey sand.
My blood stains the imperfect grains.
I stare at the horizon and the gleaming moon.
It's bright rays lighting the path of those who walk on earth
to the shimmering waters ahead.
And us, those who lie in wait and bleed,
are left to our solemn hopes, never fulfilled.
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