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For every

For every hawk
there is a dove
unaware gliding on the gusts below
For every wolf an innocent lamb
Back turned
Chewing on soft grass
For ever angel
A demon
Waiting to press its thumbs
To bruise the thin neck
And for every scar
A rusting blade
Covered in dried blood
Waiting to share more stories
Than the thin line of fresh skin
Could ever begin
To tell




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