The blind begger comes begging change,
with battered lips he pleads reassuring us we´re good.
Sometimes I wonder if god has got his hand out
and wants to see how much I want to shake it.
The blind begger´s curly short hair has been a carpet-
for an opportunist´s world.
His eyes as egg whites with veins, hard paths he´s trodden.
He roams this train asking for change.
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