Fools Gold
I stand upon my mountain
Dreading the waves which roll upon my shore
An acid that is eroding away at my flesh
Eating the muscle underneath
I have no place to run or hide
Surrounded by such a vast ocean
Behold the mountain is sinking
Becoming smaller with time
As precious gold runs through my closed fingers
Along with memories of what may of been
I realize that the gold is like water
And water is time
That I spent foolishly
Thinking I have an abundance of
Copyright © Chris Broyles | Year Posted 2008
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