Another poem I wrote about his obsession with materialism versus the tangible connection we held. I think I was never a true constant in his life and I realized my presence fed him at the time but he always stayed so hungry. I don't know where I was at this point in my life, but it was definitely a low and my decision to upload it now shows that I have faced the danger and its potentional, but never again will I face myself towards the bustle.
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