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Thursday, August 23, 2018

 Poverty drags me through the dust as a willing participant 
Money flows through my fingers like water
I dig out slowly from the holes I have created
The rope swinging seductively 
The silence of all my ghosts are deafening 
That little voice of reason whimpers in the dark
All my doors are closed as I slam them with defiance 
And the hungry winds swirl around me once more





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