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Rated: E · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #2330677
About greed and How money makes us feel.
*Money Sick*

I'm the scent that wafts, loud and clear,
My name announced, like a song so dear.
Perfume of power, fragrance of might,
My presence whispers, "I'm worth the fight."

Crawling, weak, yet resilient as can be,
A whiff of me revives humanity.
A skippy step, a sudden stride,
My influence noticed, far and wide.

To some, I'm sovereign, a guiding light,
Empowering dreams, banishing the night.
To others, a hindrance, a weight so bold,
A barrier to progress, young and old.

Illusions and nightmares, a twisted game,
I manipulate, with an subtle aim.
Without me, you surely would decline,
Your fate uncertain, like a fragile vine.

My allure is strong, my grip so tight,
A double-edged sword, shining bright.
I fuel ambitions, yet foster fears,
A paradox of power, through all the years.

In the pursuit of me, hearts beat fast,
A relentless chase, that will forever last.
I'm the carrot on the stick, the prize so fine,
A symbol of success, or so divine.

But what's the cost, of this endless quest?
Is it worth the toll, on heart and breast?
For I can heal, yet also harm,
A delicate balance, a precarious charm.
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