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May 2014
Towards the edge you push me,
my feet slipping, tired, weak.
Over the edge is much more pain
than what I've lived here on the plain.
Yet you push, destroy you will,
all I have till all is nil.
And in the canyon's darkness deep
I cannot from harm my loved ones keep:
the demons will come out to play,
Death, destruction will have last say.
Written by
dawid
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