Leonell EchaMarch 26, 20201min10010

Now, we are even

I refuse to keep records
Of all the wrongs you cooked up
Twice you snitched on me
More than often,you fell a tree
Mounting roadblocks to my progress

You fed my opponents information
Turning my heaven to earth
I could walk seven hills backward
To ‘untwine’ the clouds you wrapped

He climbs my head like a ladder
Till he falls flat on his face
There are two damaged goods now
Lying where they can’t fall again
This victory doesn’t feel like a reward

Bose.

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