Falling Deeper

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Envy crawls through the dark city streets
Hand pressed against the glass

Eyes flashing with the ads


The words, “I want…,” floating in the air
The prospect of fame

The sweet burn of shame


The wishful wind blowing through his hair
The moneys warm glow

Front row seats for lifes new show


What you want isn’t always something you need
A familiar whisper in his ear
He takes it all despite the fear


As Envy gives way to Greed





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