sell
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Reality, my bane;
mundanity, my employer.
If I could sell boredom,
life would be livelier.
Fantasy, my dream;
my imaginings, my world.
"Won't you reconsider?" He said with a smirk
I try not to quiver, He catches a jerk
of the wrist, just a twitch, but enough to reveal
the nerves, now induced, by the thought of His work
