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Just living off the goodness of others,

Feeling as lowly as a morsel of

Humble pie.

No use asking why.

The world spins as it spins.

No use wishing to cry.


No longer able to work with hands or mind,

Feeling as worthless as a slug on

Dry earth.

Scarce are the raindrops in

Living out this pauper’s birth.


Still, I smile

As I lift reddened eyes to the heavens,

Above the worldly guile.


Still, I smile.

by S.A. Bort 11 December 2015

photo: © Manny Terrero