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Posted on December 30, 2018 by poeeternal

Pest

Aside from a few good lyrics he wrote
He’s worse than a cockroach
He doesn’t care much for silver or gold
His only currency is broken souls
Nearly sixty years collecting his fortune
You’ll find him mostly hanging near a slum
Begging & crawling into every mistake
He can cry a river and still never ache

© Delia Ross. 2018

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Posted in PoeEternal, poetry, spoken word, WritingTagged PoeEternal, poetry, prose

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