Stitched purse bottom is ugly, weak and treacherous... squanders my self-worth.
capital letters scream with impunity, deafening society...
Confused by your heart's vacuity as you subsist on diamonds and live prey.
my farm grows twinkies, hot pink second-hand scrunchies and defective sporks.
Greed is awful but there is hope... lots of hope... that's why I write.
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