Am I a poet or do I work for a lawyer?
What am I, I ask, what is underneath this mask?
Is it deception or truth, in what I owe, or am I just a musing soul, to all who know?
All those shredded papers, I no longer see, it is apparent, I have left them, for now I am me.
What about extra money, I could bank right now? No thank you, I would rather, be working as a clown.
Years of lies and deceit, haunting words such as "sue," thank God, up above, for my conscience to leave you!
I write down my feelings, and remember before, quiet moments of reflection, lawyer's arrogance, no more.
My lesson to make changes, is here for all to view, poets do live forever, pondering thoughts, old and new.
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