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To Be A Snob MAG
I stood high upon that hilltop-
looking down on peoples' heads
as they milled around, jostling each other.
I felt good standing above,
my heights dwarfing the moving specks below.
I had once been down there wishing,
in the fray, looking up to
see feet of others stand on this same hill.
I toiled to climb the mound,
to try and see their far and distant faces.
Now they struggle and labor to
be level, head on, with me
and they wonder what I see here, on my hill.
Little do they know, all I
see is the tops of wandering peoples' heads.
I sit, watch them climb together.
I must squint to see their faces
and I want, wish, they would see more than my feet.
This hill can be lonely.
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