The sound of running water.
Heat blazes,

the sun glares.
I am a tribute to Apollo,

he takes my soul.

A glare off the clear water,

beautiful.

Sharp jolts,

my feet on fire.
Glass,

I almost step.

Green, slimy goop,

I slip.
Icy cold, I hesitate,

my toes go numb.

I approach the cement,

memories rushing back.
The cement,

rough and uneven.

A soft whisper,

never stops.
A bird chirps,

he’s spying on me.

Black, stringy, gross water on my shin,

I am poisoned.
Continuous trickling,

a never ending stream of tears.


Red blurs scurry,

don’t hurt me.
Sand relieves the pain from stepping on rocks.
Tadpoles,

a frantic sensation within rises.

Further and further down the stream.
Forever engraved in the sands of the riverbed.