I recall an infinite moment closing in upon the shelter
where upon you grabbed me with loose fists that couldn't find their purchase
I was lost unto that gropping crowd who found my body welcoming
though I guarded and I voiclessly screeched the hands continued their searching
But for what were they searching, for invitation and enjoyment?
No, wandering hands want only for the challenge they are provided
I would never welcome their grip, I would sooner cut them at the wrist before I relented
I was lost through that year in the sea of searching hands
the ones who long only for the pain they can provide
But exactly a year on from the start you found me
With stronger fists you beat the slimy hands away from me whereupon they turned to dust
And I, for the moment, was free