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The Wrong Way

Thank you delusion
He won't want the hills;
The cravings;
The oily sense of waste.

On the pebbles I came
With my left hand
Firmly planted on the ground
With my right hand overlapping

The ceremonial bow
He was yellow (a gold I had
never seen before)
I am red (masses).

I haven't looked at the
Reflective surface
For as long as this life
May take

Thank you servitude
To the devil
He reminds me every
Single day.

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