He reaches in for a kiss
She hesitates, to insist
Those days where such bliss

Clouded by monetary means
They say it’s the ruin of all things
Power to poor, it brings misgivings & more

Beyond those lines of old ties & whys
Who’s allowed to stop the clock on lies?
Since when was there ever a frame of time

Bottling all of it; again, except her quill pen
Hard to be considered a friend
Truths have birthed beasts amongst men

The End

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