'Finders'

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Careful lies don't surface from decrement piles,
carefree I've become in exposing hidden files,

everything possesses ticking expiration,
What am I?
What monstrosities of sin mine may satisfy?
scrapes no rules for explanation,
yet, I admire one's dedication,
for if not corrected medication -

far reach for unimagined pessimistic path,
hoaxed by lifetime wrath,
naturally born psychopath
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consoling, such were not of nature's footpath;

before wondering down mine shoulder,
give oneself a once over,
urge you... find magic within air exposure,
perhaps even beneath one's feet pad loafers...
in the form of a four leaf clover.

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