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They gave us the river to drink
when our bellies were full with rain
and when we refused
they said our pride would be the death of us
Our shoulders were burdened with blame
with the sound of voices dictating
what form our bodies should take
They asked us to climb the mountains
to straddle the hills on misshapen legs
Whe we crawled as far from them as we could
they said our cowardice would keep us stagnant
These are not lies, they told us
this is the truth but we have painted it
the colour of our thoughts
Now we are sinking
too unskilled to swim, too heavy to float
Our bodies become one with the ocean
before they throw the ropes, asking us to hold on
Our hands flail with what the water has left of our faith
Ofcourse we are dead before our hands make it.

— The End —