I was eventually thrown into fear.
Have I not tasted the tip of it since...
I can ever recall from the distanced dimension.
I panic as it crept,
from my toes, to my ankles,
now the grip on my shoulder...
...there is so mere to fight for.
Silently I wish that I could not be seen.
Silently I seek for a parasitic slumber on whatever source I could ask for.
Silently I imagined that the grip could be loosen,
and I would be left drifting with the flow,
to be waken up on the other shore of hope.
This secret dream of mine.
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