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Poetry

The Climb

Climbing the valley wall
I push through the miasma

Climbing higher the wind tries to tear me off
I reach for the next hold

Climbing further the rain makes the rocks slippery
I grip tighter

Climbing on, the lightening blasts the rocks from my hand
I push on

Above the storm it's still dark
No light to guide me

Clothed in cuts and bruises
Blood pouring from wounds

Let go or fall down I die
So I climb higher

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