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Dec 2018
Walking with purpose,
As if through quicksand.
Attempting to move forward,
Inevitably sinking.

Promises of mutual effort
Promises of reward

What’s more,
Valueless.

So put on the ritz
In the form of the rich.
Shower me with lies,
And those with blind eyes.

I know what you’re up to.
Adam DeRosa
Written by
Adam DeRosa  28/M/Phoenix
(28/M/Phoenix)   
218
 
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