Quick Sand

March 3, 2010
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The more i struggle
Climbing out,
The force rips at me
Like a bullet harvesting its prey

My limbs hang limp
But not for long,
I continue to thrash violently
Like a deer under a jaguar
For someone to help me,
Out of this ever deepening hole

Sinking deeper and deeper
Until I stop fighting it
I just let it pull me in
Inch by inch

Finally--The point
No longer I speak
The quicksand
I disappear

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