Oh helpless whispers of white evening skies;
Can I grow to forget scars imprinted in my mind?
The walls felt to be of acid,
I touched them and my skin began to melt– yet I felt nothing.
The ground between my toes began to grow old;
Boots sinking into to rivers made of gold.
Wings of an angel take my heart into their
Soft pale white hands to concour my fears.
Swim – oh I was born to swim;
My lungs can fill with water but I have gills in my throat.
Nothing can beat me, I fear not –
This riverside is mine.
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