terça-feira, 7 de outubro de 2014

The pauper's convenient death

The daily chaos is my clothes
Fist fighting complacency and apathy
My ten year old shoes have split on the sides
as I climb the hill to fetch a few empty cans

I've been washed away on stormy nights
Burned by the sun through the summer sun light
Down the hill I go no one can look me in my my sooty eyes
and when they do the polar expressions form predictably

Love from no one is a daily reminder
as I wander through people's trash
and watch real people move the world
with their cars and computers

Sometimes the bad elements come to start trouble
gasoline after midnight local neighbors and police
straight out of the calm darkness, they seem possessed
the ashes of me will be found near the dirty river

No longer will my teeth be shown to the sun from when I struggled to smile
No longer will I beg on trains or sleep under shop front awnings
They got rid of the me as if I was the disease
Yet a thousand like me are forced out of their homes everyday

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