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They chant praises like sycophants, They embellish and make pleasant.
They publish plastered plastic smiles,
Shielding intents dark and vile.
Behind you drips the pool of red;
Silver daggers, lies and tales they spread.
All abroad they murder your reputation,
Till you're a walking corpse, greeted with indignation.
A few persons may try to bring to light,
Their intention is to protect your right,
But with goading of the Devil's advocates,
You shove aside, and no longer associate.
We call fiend friend and fend off the true,
Fear of criticism leads us to Waterloo.
Oblivious of our stabbed backs and bloodied behind,
We call good evil and malicious, kind.
By Akpobome Akpughe
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