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Going up, words appalled
as illusions stuck my throat.
Crying eyes that watch
the rise of the street lamps.
My feet take lost steps
and my hands smoothe
the weathered rocks.

The wind passes by
trees with suspended roots.
The river runs far,
for a creek covered in plants.
Its rumour ends
and my fears die
but the stream's echo
cripples my mind.

And I feel human
with no soul in sight.