This is where I step aside

and watch my arrogance pass.

Some things should simply stay buried,

rotting... and fading fast.

My mind collects dust,

and my thoughts are like fire,

burning my senses

and raging with desire.

Our river flows under rocks and trees,

your presence here is gold.

I'm climbing mountains of mental barriers,

but the air here is cold.

There's ice on each word,

there's fear clogging my throat.

I could explain for a thousand pages

and hate every word I wrote.

Each second ticks as I stand still,

and wish time would as well.

There's perfection in every moment,

and the passing hours are hell.