Maybe all this writing is just an exercise in frivolity
It will just sit in some journal, some file
Until I die
No one really wants to know the thoughts I have
No one wants to hear your thoughts either
People are too consumed with The Economy
This is why love has to be negotiated
So everyone gets their needs met
We are all vying for our rights
That’s okay
Selfishness gets you more love
That is just the way it is
You have to take what’s rightfully yours
No one is going to give it to you freely
There is no humor or irony here
Just cynicism and melancholy
There is a windstorm outside
I want to let it sting me
and blow my thoughts away
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