Indigenous Pretender

I wrestle with an armoire of not…

Not caring.

Not speaking.

Relishing in a retreat to the village of the damned.

The regalia of trash that surrounds me is not mine…

If I do not address it.

Lavishing self in the offspring of bling.

Often there is refuge as the, great pretender.

Like a misnomer headstone.

The sunshinning brightest on those we choose to not remember.

Long live, indigenous thought.

Long live, the great pretender.

poverty 1

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