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The Mountain

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I forgot the scent of forget-me-not's
Numb to the thorn in my side,
Or the sweat in my eyes
Biting down my lip, furrowed concentration
Scaling the mountain with scratched up limbs
Gripping and struggling off mere whims
I forgot the taste of water,
Or what it was like being my father's daughter
To look at my co-ordinance I glance away
I can't decide if I'm farther from the top or bottom
I can't figure out what's what
The threads of determination seem to be cut
I'll starve, dehydrate, and suffer climbing my way to the top
I'll break like glass falling to the bottom
Either way I'll lose myself
And I wonder this time, what's more cowardly
The fear of life or death?





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