The Mountain Top

The Mountain Top

Over the
mountains

Lies a
festival

Of Man
& his
celebrations

There is
the party
on the
beach

And then
the green
money

Of your
blood n
sweat

You on
the other
side

Waitin your
turn

You try
several times

Each time
a fall

Into the
abyss of
thorns

At nights
you lick
your wounds

And the
day the
charge

A final
attempt

And your
hand makes
it to
the top

The rest
washed away

In the
dust of
the perfect
storm

Caution: This might be all theory

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