Lily Isong

August 17, - Nigeria
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money, the root of all evil,
who wants the root when you can have a couple branches
A shoulder to cry on should smell like mint
From blood and sweat we make this wealth
But character would keep the flow
A woman can have them all and a bit more
Streaks of poverty could be my woe

I tell the tails of a broken heart
A couple dollar bills could mend this heart
I want this and that and so much more
A thing of mine I crave the most
To be heard and seen and known for a thing
I hate to be defined, but that's the validation I need,
To let the world know; that I was here.

I fear not death, for it's a destiny we're all sure of
sooner or later it'll come
But I'll be up on this hill till I'm all gray
I fear a life where I look back with nothing to show
The life I lived, the dreams I had, all blown away by the wind of life.
The money I dreamt was never mine
I could roll in my tomb and seek to return
for I deserve a happy end and the money to compensate my broken soul.
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