the rust
is silent
in its ways.
the slow
crawl
of reddish
orange biting
gently, relentless
in its onslaught
against
the iron rail.
it's there
before you know
it, growing,
weakening
what was once
strong
and could hold
your weight.
what else,
you ask yourself,
is escaping
your eyes.
falling apart
before you.
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