No Luche Contra El Corriente

by on March 14, 2015 :: 2 comments

From out of the water, resting in the woods
There you found me like you knew you would.
Liberty, the stroke of midnight’s mouth,
In a staring contest with a mirror,
I wonder which one is me.
Now deep enough in the water
The riptide pulls me free,
I am the angel and the echo
Foolishly fighting what must be

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