A Triple Disjointed Realisation — The Answers

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In the case of my own fate
I’ve grown to realise that a perfectionists haste
has slowed me to a redundant pace.
Space is where I must go
to lace up my perilous flow
into an untestable, glorifying show.
There’s no more time for blasé acts
sitting back with a conservative tact,
Be extraordinary or be forgotten.

There is no other option.

This is the second part of a two part poem. The first part can be found here.

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