An observation, a witness if you will.
I knew a wayward man; His eyes shadowed with defeat. His sunken lips and hollow cheeks, mapping his journey. He cannot reach, nor walk a step, his will has met it's match. Lost to his own deceit, to liars and ransoms! His life disguised by tainted thoughts, and to his world he let. A barrower, a beggar, a thief, he challenges for an allotted fee. His knees buckle! His weighted heart! A dirty dollar, a euro, a yen, it fits the same in pockets of men. The soles of his feet burn, the scortched path before him, is churned.
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