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and He that waits in silence
can be brought by torrential islands
when surges of breaking sands
meet Ships that break their hands
and wild to the animals grow
beyond arm and finger, foot and toe

and the boy kept telling stories
and they assumed he knew he was

parting flesh around thin metals
filling capillaries with soot and oil
where we are not what we are used to
we are not what we were meant to be
and this burden of being extraordinary
comes at the price of compassionless shores

the rest of the world staring
whispering back never more