Chela
Crushing mountains of water
Slam down hard on the sand
As the storm rages violently
Holding the world in its hand
Two small crabs cling together tightly
In a desperate attempt to survive
Having been through so much already
The hope is to come out alive
In the midst of the tempest
All the promises along the way
Are brought to mind, not knowing
If they will make it through the day
Lives pass as rapid fire images
Of a time come and gone
For what it is worth, all
That they did was it really wrong
As the storm thunders on and on
And the weak grasp of the little crabs sore
Does one let go now to fend for itself
Or hold on tight and swim for shore
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