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I am the weak. I am the broken. I am the working girl on the street. I am the child that wishes to never go home. I am the hopeless. I am the forgotten. I am the pregnant teen who fell through the cracks. I am the lost boy. I am the sick. I am the poor. I am everything you choose not to see. |
The title is exceedingly apt... happy people are more visible than the lost, miserable ones. they are ignored so cruelly... they feel like invisible, non existent. very good and powerful poem in so few words. | Posted on 2011-04-05 00:00:00 | by ShiveringFire | [ Reply to This ] | | Very outside in, clear point, still I feel it is a little empty. Maybe elaborate something about the different roles, so they get more "life". -Kwanying- | Posted on 2011-03-31 00:00:00 | by Kwanying | [ Reply to This ] | |