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UNDERTOWTormented obscure words Decaffeinated from reality Warp the thoughts In a society blameless From ones own frailties Nor can hiding in the fog In the shadows of whispers of drug induced truth Remove the storm rising creating illusions For the labors of loneliness The latest of symbols in the passage of time For reality is the kitchen from which nightmares begin Honor is ones own work And poverty not the blame of others for the winds of fate now blowing Need only small sacrifices The servants of darkness From the sweat of labors Not from the estate of the prodigal The sum of which in the end well bare the fruit and wealth Rid thyself from the demons of depending on the honor in thieves Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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