Lies seeping up from carpeted floors adorned with Persian rugs
Tangling themselves around wooden legs and glass shelves
Crawling from open mouths into innocent ears
That listen with hearts unfolded on the surgical table
Riches and beauty shroud faces of real hatred
Only the dead eyes speak of the horrors that fill them
Murder in the core of a column of stability
A flaw in the crème of the alabaster stone
Reigning dominant over blue collar fools
Astounded by the diseased souls that fill the room
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