Did I take the poison willingly
or was it shoved down my throat,
we both know it’s killing me
but really, must you gloat?
The source of the toxicity?
Your patronizing smirk
so sure that your duplicity
will make us beg for work,
you never think to compensate
the ones that don’t say yes
but struggle hard to separate
the money from the mess.
This vitriolic venom
fills my mouth with bitter bile,
forever doomed to denim
a pawn beneath the pile.
Are You Reading Me?
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