Stepping StonesLike a chipped chisel, or an angled awl... who cares if they fall?The tools clatter hard onto the cold floor; They're not useful to us anymore.Let us find more devoted devices; We only want to please our vicious vices.Who cares if our actions bring them pain? All we care about is our gain.In the river lie their bleached bones... we used them all as stepping stones.Their hopes we traded for our success; Countless dreams were ruined in the process.Empty and broken, we let their husks slip away; No concern for them touches us today.Drained and lifeless, they sink below; Neglected there, their remains soon show.What do you mean you say that you're done? We were just about to have some fun!You can't leave us that easily, can you? Our exploitation of you isn't through.Our desires can never be fulfilled; Meanwhile, your will to live shall be milled.We shall smile, as you gasp your final breath; We surely caused your pitiful death.
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