Creeping slowly inside hollow trying to fill,
It’s like you are back to the same landslide down the hill,
Attempts to lunge and plunge into the fresh waters no
matter,
Carrying the dirt along at the end eventually shatters,
What it feels to lay low to be risen back again,
Is it the same that tends to drag you down back to the
summer rains,
Cover up, or patching up the bruised up tracks,
Let them heal in the open, else they will leave dirty patchy
cracks,
Emotional bliss, to the heavy winds to find that gentle
kiss,
Lost in the deepest of the translations avoiding the
contact,
Running in circles, catching up the tails trying to overcome
the attack,
It won’t end so soon, reach to the root and you will find no
room,
Hold out to the hand, lead in to the cliffs to the shore,
Waiting the boat to sailing waters leading to the
destination,
Rescuing the running blood in your body from the state of
desperation,
Unknowing, knowingly the battle will be won at the end, with
the highest score.
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