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The Beggar, the Poorman, the Bum
Caitlyn, Age 13, Bothwell, ON

The cold, bitter, wind whips
At my shaggy, unshaven face.
I look up only to see
A bunch of cold hateful stares.

I feel,
Lonely, sad, unwanted, forgotten.
I am no longer optimistic,
But disgusted with myself.

I am hungry, depressed,
Hated by many.
I did not choose to live like this,
It is the only way I get by, day by day.

I hear the people all around me
Snickering and sneering.
I know they don't want me here,
But I wish someone would understand.

They criticize me for my lifestyle,
But they can't even offer me a dollar.
They take for granted the food they have,
Where some people don't have any.

I smell the nose tingling scents of
Too much perfume and hotdogs,
Gas and garbage,
I wish I had a home of my own.

I am the beggar, the poorman, the bum,
I stand on the corner losing my dignity.
All because I haven't a house, a family, a job,
I am also the man you ignore and pretend not to see.

So, call me names,
Ignore me or hate me.
I am the person you will never take the time to meet,
Or have the heart to acknowledge.

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