Noah Trist

October 2, 2003 - Melbourne
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Sand castles

Spinning my wheels
Keeping the pace.
A masterpiece rising
From the shores embrace.
Confidence blooms from every grain.

My monument of sand
Son strong with salt,
Im sure it’s beauty
Will been seen
With fault.

But here comes the tide
Relentless and gray,
To steal my creation
Wash it away.
I don’t why
My toil is in vain
Yet nature swallows
And leaves pain.

Time and energy
Emotional misuse.
I’ve squeezed a thousand lemons
For a thimble of juice.

Return to my glass house
Walls made to bind,
Locked from the outside
My sanctuary confined.

Sand clings to these walls
A constant leer.
Keeping my walls
From being completely clear.

In this glass prison
I find my calm
It clicks in
Like subtle charm.
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