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Both saint and sinner, expert and beginner

Accepted and refused, clarity confused.

A thief that's given much, isolated craving touch.

Profound yet often times profane, quite well but very much insane

Done it all had it done, have every one but still have none.

There my quandary lies, as the dampened laundry dries

To execute my vision I must shoot with cold precision

A time relative sister brother, resides in here as any other

Accuracy must exist with every errant beat that's missed

And so, what must I do to find this peace and see it through?

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