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About This Poem
Pity the Vagrants
Pity the vagrants. Homeless. Lifeless.
A cardboard bed in a glass tardis
Lit by street lights. In an un-lit life.
Pity the vagrants. Young and old
Huddled on benches freezing cold
Eyes caught in a twilight life.
Pity the vagrants. In their living hell
The social lepers, that we all know well
All alone in a lonely life.
Pity the vagrants, gaining looks of disdain
Queuing for hours for soup in the rain
Living each day of a shallow life!
Pity the vagrants. Who knows when they die
Because there but for the grace of God
Go you and I…
© 31/7/2012
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