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On the edge of a silver knife
Engulfed by a flame
On the brink, the verge of life
Nothing ever again the same

Looking back; not having made a mark
Nothing extraordinary to fill the frame
A life most average; one without spark
No power, recognition or fame

Without that to make it worthwile
Anonymous, without a name
Life monotonous, like a file
Time to start playing the game

Taking life into the hand
No more wandering lame
Growing to quartz from a mere strand
Jumping out of the cycle of shame

Sands do fall, clocks do tick
Beyond the level of blame
Alliances fickle, nothing does stick
Life finally with an aim

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This Poems Story

Reflecting on the carousel of life.