Life is like walking on a razorblade.
One slip and your split in two,
persecuted for things you didn't even think to do.
Like a set of swings, in that you can only go so far, never full circle altogether.
Some people claim to have done such a feat - held only by a single tether.
Like your best white shirt, the irony never gets out the creases - you scrub and scrape but the bloodstain increases.
In essence, life is something that lacks explanation - riding the crest of a wave with its destructive distillation.
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