You make it seem I've written well
What you don't tell is what you sell
The semi-finalist you say I am
Is just another blatent scam
This poem I write, is just for you
Your machine review will pick it too
So, enshrine it in some fancy book
For your kids to know you were a crook
The time will come, I hope not far away
When for all your decseit you'll have to pay
For the harm you've done with "sell", "sell", "sell"
May you roast forever in "Hell", "Hell", "Hell"
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