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COLD FEAR
death may hold our hand in times of fear,
a clinging coldness
sweeping mercilessly through veins that relish life
fear,
tugging at the hem of our coat
reminding days not to halt
stumbling from rock to rock
with bloodied feet,
aware of moments ebbing away with the tide
a short future to unfurl before us
look outward,
beyond the flotsam of life
and grasp the balance
allow waves of calm to wash the aches
and believe,
for time is but the space between smile and frown
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