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Generosity is dead

 Hands are held in pockets
to brush the shade from hidden treasures
or to stop the light of day from plugging the holes  
black hearted pupils of hungry eyes see both
and blink to shake away the twinkled mist
of lessons close to never forgotten
luck always liked the sour side of stuff
why would today be any different?
just walk towards the future
try not to think too much
about mister Silverspoon
and why he strolled by an age too late
to leave a few gifts
and walk away with all his hard won humble
Written by DystopianMelody
Published
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