Lysithea A box without a lock, lost. Liminal; My feet on the sand, Caressed by the waves, And walking between The feathers, Fish bones, And driftwood. Stones send stabs of pain through my feet. Now searching the rocks, Frantic, The cliffs raging above me, I look to the sea. A box without a lock, lost. Liminal; Between the land and the sea, Sand beneath my feet.
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