*POETRY WARNING* Spenserian Friend-zone

That shiny paper is its own reward: 
It scampers out of reach so flittingly
And dances nearer of its own accord,
Much more intriguing when compared to me.

What value is not obvious to see
The worth at hand compared with effort spent,
But who am I to judge the cost to thee? 
A thing already won, irrelevant,

I'll take the status quo, but play is cruel intent.

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