Sugar Coated Ego

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Fame.

It tastes like sugar.

Sugar is something my blood stream needs.

Bleed. Fame.

I love the way I smell when I’m arrogant.

I regret the people I left, and love the people who want…

Me? Fame. It burns like paper.

First around the edges, slowly eating in.

Smoke swirls my senses, like sex on a high.

Then I forget why I smiled.

Fame. On high.

 

 

 

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