Gold Digger Need Not Apply
Your eyes hunger for money,
Hoping some would magically appear.
Your words flow like honey,
Trickling sweetly down my ear.
Your tongue is wicked and funny,
But busy lapping up its own spiel.
Your lips are full of promises,
None of which are remotely real.
Your hands and fingers are insatiable,
Whenever something valuable is near.
Your body is your temple,
The only thing you worship and revere.
I would call you a gold digger,
But you’re still choosing your career.
(C) 2013 Copyright Elena Plotkin
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