The Invisibles

They pass through life without being seen

Nobody cares if they live or die,

they  eat at the best restaurants

what the customers leave in the trash

 

Their life is a flower withering

turning to dust,

the dust of the street

where the tourists are passing by

 

They beg for a penny

so they can buy wine, 

that’s what you think

 

when you see them wrapped in the newspaper

sleeping in the park.

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2 thoughts on “The Invisibles

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