The Wind is floating around the misty mountain,
the echos of voices are flowing up,
her hair is being pulled through the trees,
a shot, a fall, her eyes turn to coal,
hands are pulling on her, pulling her up,
dragging her to move forward,
dark unknowing eyes look at her,
but she is out of reach,
she moves closer to the edge,
the wind is blowing in her hair that almost glows golden in the sun,
one more step she does,
there is no sound, nothing more than the crumbling of her clothes.
And she is gone.
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