homeless

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By Ivy Collier

I stand alone waiting for a ghost, There is an old man next to me, close enough that I can smell his breath, but we do not belong to the same universe me with my endless worry, he with his cane, make a nice pair of sidewalk trash. Passing by, a woman with sad eyes looks understanding, I cannot help but feel fear, For when someone knows of this, we've all become homeless.

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