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They say third time lucky 

Two chances have gone 
To touch the edge 
The sharpest edge known 
And the Sun only serves 
To make the shade darker 
It’s like every atom in me 
Has given up 
So I walk past tree trunks 
Touch the splitting bark 
To ground me back with nature 
Tell myself that Spring is here 
No time to go off hunting 
Yet there’s majesty in turning away 
Cutting off my hair and 
Make a painted canvas of my skin Whilst I chant my last song 
Thumping my heel into the dust 
With the beat of my soul
Until it  ceases to be  

 

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