Roll the dice on my behalf,
Odds in favour of a fair chance,
and choice makes it hard,
A dialogue within an expression,
and a technique to perform deception,
But I'm just a man,
and my soul is torn inside,
Fault lines making options.
A fine harvest,
from few drudges;
what it's,
that still brings me back to you
Stairway rising up,
and rain falling down,
making a diversion,
A voice;
that resonates with every chord,
There are justifications and statements.
Battles won, and battles lost,
cats hovering around dumps,
bugs and pests,
But I like to hunt,
with my dagger and axe:
The vigour of endurance.
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