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I go like a bat outta hell.

I zip from here to there.

Trying to out run the silence.

Trying to hide from the stillness.

I stop at an intersection.

I know you are there.

I’ve seen you here countless times.

Your sign changes from time to time.

I judge you. I hide. I cannot face you.

If I face you and acknowledge your existence I have to accept that in part you are there on my works. Your filthy face and bandaged legs are a reminder that I am not an island. I am not independent.

Try as I may to forget that I am you and you are me.

I sweat at the light.

I pray trying to make you disappear.

I try to master my mind and deny your existence.

Could you really do something other than hang out on this corner?

The story behind your sign, is it true?

I am now praying for the light to turn green.

I go like a bat outta hell.

I zip from here to there.

Trying to out run the silence.

Trying to hide from the stillness.

I stop at an intersection.

I know you are there.

I’ve seen you here countless times.

Your sign changes from time to time.

I judge you. I hide. I cannot face you.

If I face you or reach out to your humanity I have to change my ways. I hoard and take more than I need. I justify this with the privilege I posses. I did not earn this privilege. I fell in to it. Your weather beaten eyes are a reminder that I am not liberated. I am not free from suffering.

Try as I may to forget that I am you and you are me.

I sweat at the light.

I pray trying to make you disappear.

I try to master my mind and deny your existence.

I am now praying for the light to turn green…

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