I’m not interested in riches
Burning bridges
Living vicious
Or his digits
The way he itches
Making wishes
Hiding in ditches
Losing inches
I lost interest in the fires
All desires
Walking wires
Finding liars
He’s living slummy
Chasing honey
A gifted rummy
Acting dummy
My eyes were faded
Mostly jaded
Temporarily sedated
Now I’m frustrated
I’m over his wall
Yet still I crawl
A broken doll
Hating his protocol
© Delia Ross. 2020
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