Mark Sane

Rookie (1987 / Uzbekistan)

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A razor blade, my love, and I walked it,
Along it's silver edge, cutting my feet
Struggling to keep my balance as it bit
Deep into my skin with no way to treat
The ache any strong drug would make inside
To unleash the ravenous way I feel
And keep me shackled. Restricted by pride
From aid. Broken in, love's servant I kneel,
Head bent, eyes red with lack of sleep at night

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