Down a metal beach I went
Onto a rusty shore
A sea of razors there I met
Breaking with metallic roar

To go forward was to die
From a thousand tiny cuts
And yet across the bay I spied
A scattered run of huts

My destination, or so it seemed
Was plainly there in sight
Yet I could not step into the stream
Of rust, of fear, of blight

There was no choice for me to make
No alternate paths appeared
To reach safety I would have to take
The route that I most feared

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