His scars carry scars, he says
The man on the brink
As he stands poised expertly
On the knife-edge of his dream
His words are rough and ragged
Worn down to the bone by being alone
The gravel of his tone
A rasp upon my soul
Each scar a prize, he says
Won in a hardfought fight
He comments on my scars
And says - one day you'll be there
I laugh it off, though I know it's true
I've looked into a mirror with a view
And only time will tell if the scars on my shell
Will cut deep enough to bite
Slice in and cut out the light
It could end my walk up that razor sharp edge
I have climbed with all my might
Every day of my life
I watch as he slides
The man with the scars
His balance gone
His time is done
He says nothing more, but
As he falls, I cannot help but see
That he smiles...
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