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See the dancers gyrating
Sliding over the pole
Lustful men leering
Eager to hunger, watching

Private dance for the few
Parting with crumbled money
Sweating in craving desires
For what they can never touch

But I silently see the movement
Of an ****** motion of beauty
I see the eyes of unknown passion
Something that can not be mine

Even through my scars of ruination
They ****** for printed paper
Money is no longer a commodity
Only to witness serenity in motion
Copyright 2014

— The End —