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Seaside

I stand on the edge

of the seaside shore,

the waves gently

lapping at my feet.

The call is to come,

come out to the deep,

but my feet won’t budge

from the sand.

The deep is unknown,

not safe, not safe,

and I might not

make it back home.

But the water keeps calling,

calling my name,

wooing me in

with the promise of more.

I want to go deeper,

go deeper still,

but first I must

leave from the shore.

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A very honest and earnest account of extremely real fear - it was such a pleasure to read. Your use of the repetitive/overlapping phrases here was excellent, and set the tone perfectly. Thank you!

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