Peering in the windows,
Of those lives I barely see,
Except when tokens are procured,
For rides, intermittently,
They look at me, I look back,
Nothing severed or taken,
My pith, unimpaired,
And by them, unmistaken,
Do they think that my life,
Should be transformed to theirs,
With foreign exclusions,
And tainted, quaint stares,
Their subtle indifference,
No case dares to appeal,
Embodies the essence,
Of a world they call...
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