treatothersasyourself
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What makes me tick?
That drumming of your fingers on the desk?
How about the way you stare,
With those fancy clothes you love to wear?
No.
I don't have all the money in the world.
Such tears of pain,
of shame,
wiped from the page
smeared in ink stains.
If only she had known,
maybe these tears
would never have shown.
