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Slowly Dying
They glance upon my misery,
Knowing nothing of its making.
They shuffle onwards busily,
Each step my spirits breaking.
All they see are rags and bags,
Not stopping to consider,
Every moment on life lags,
My resolve is wearing thinner.
And with each sad, distasteful glance,
To the world I feel like crying:
"Don’t you know I'm a person, too?"
A person, slowly dying.
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