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Scrambling, rambling, but somehow shambling
Much love goes out to the ones who go without.

Scrambling, rambling, but somehow shambling

It's daily I see,
Inexplicable mystery,
Written in stone, for all history.

A struggle with life,
A trial by knife,
That elemental, essential strife.

Thought forms,
Mind storms,
Still, no norms.

This turbulent mind,
Has nothing to find,
So please let's re-wind.

I enter the scene,
Thinking I'm keen,
On what it is that she has seen.

To my surprise,
Yet her demise,
All life is made of lies.

What I'm trying to say,
Is that there's no way,
For life to end in just parlay.

Risk it all,
Or continue to crawl.
Her fear is still her wall.

So now she stands,
While clasping hands,
One of her last sarabands.

A dance most heavenly
One step with serendipity,
And make her mark for eternity.


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