so they say...
i stand at the bank of the fall
as my pit of gold awaits me
cradled to my shape, molded to my skin
dulled to milky yellow, honing my mood
flashing its yellow's, glimpsing its sheen
its lure full of deceitful promise
i listen for a shift, a smooth slide
my toes curl the edge of stone
listening... for my bones to crack
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