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Sep 2010
Running through this foreign land,
Sifting through the dust and sand,
Digging in a frenzied burst,
Nothing there to quench my thirst,

Tripping on the rock of doubt,
Ground is cracking all about,
Falling through the clouds of hope,
Grabbing for life's fraying rope,

Time is lost in blinding light,
Earth and sky lost from my sight,
Terror echoes through my scream,
In my bed, naught but a dream.
Nekatu Poetry © Arik Fletcher
Arik Fletcher
Written by
Arik Fletcher
556
   Arik Fletcher
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