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The worst sort of unexplained lust,
Is the one used for dominance.
But then I wonder,
is there a better type of lust in the stream of consciousness?
Dominance asks for power,
Asks to control someone's existence.
Gives one a never ending satisfaction,
A make believe confidence.
They believe they're giving everyone protection,
By bringing them all under their leafless boughs' shades,
With phony promises and hollow words,
In order to fake flatter, give pretty names to their slaves.
The idea to wear gold knitted sweaters,
What pushes this idea of power?
What ignites the urge
To build sky high towers?
I think it's a façade, a cover,
For the sourness and cowardliness of one's soul,
Or perhaps it's some sort of addiction?
To big, fancy ceremonies and the thrumming of drum rolls,
Whatever it is, it drives them to the edge of normality,
And makes one's conscience sublime,
But then again, the boundary between sanity and insanity,
Is almost blurred in this age and time.
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