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Nov 2018
The Actor,
he thinks he’s funny.
Throws around cheap jokes,
has lots of money.
Plays hearts
like he plays old music.
Calls you a part,
of his fever dream world.
You see,
actors they’re good at pretending
you’re the only one that means
anything.
Peek out under tinted glasses
at girls;
sweet as molasses.
The thing is
a show only lasts a few seasons
so prepare to be a part of his.
For just as long.
if you like this poem, please check out the others in my “Artists” collection. thanks!!
she remains anon
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she remains anon  15/F
(15/F)   
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   she remains anon
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