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Golden
April 3, 2014
Mama always told me to keep my eye on the prize.
She never mentioned it was laced with poison.
Shiny, shiny, gold.
Shiny, shiny, prize.
Friendship?
Success?
Morals?
Success?
Love?
Success?
Sanity?
Success?
Mama lied to me.
She told me I could learn to fly.
My feet never left the ground.
© Anonymous
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