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On the Street


On the street, there's a different beat. Hunger and cold. There's family, community, predators and foes. There's those who've been forgotten, Those never known. Faces with stories, Dreams mingled with regrets. And heroes looked down on, Wearing torn up clothes. On the street there are people.
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Comments (1)

marysitz
I really like this poem - what does the last line mean for you?

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