Currency of Secrets
The currency I deal in is secrets.
They’re all around,
and fools let them pass by
while I hoard them,
waiting for
collection day.
Give me yours,
sell out hers,
betray the trust given you,
any secret will do—
each payment you make
pays out twofold.
They cry about injustice;
they say it’s not fair.
What they refuse to recognize
is that my hands are clean.
I’m only rich
as long as you keep
making
secrets.
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