Them
with overhanging brows
Are
the traitors to ourselves
Who
hang with dauntless breast
And
sail a ship of gossip.
Tingles
of pride in them full
Who
cling under the yoke of disgust
And
perambulate with red painted lips
Fashioned
above rejection.
Encircle
and hang around you
Like
a weevil in the rice field
Letting
warm emotions run your heart
You
will only but fall for it.
Then
they’ve got all their needs
And
once your haunting dreams perished
And
you wangle all along them
To
puff and sail along.
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