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Bum Rush.

Bum rush.
Rain of vagrants.
Plague of vagabonds.

And I,
just a paycheck away
from them welcoming me
to the community
of the streets.

Not running
from the past here,
just fighting
to keep my head above water,
and I feel the threat
of being pulled down.

I can’t even try
and help solve the problem
without draining
my resources,
becoming a victim myself.

And I lend credence
to the system I loathe
and turn my back on you all
just to survive.

I feel so cold again.
Frigid wind blowing in.
I don’t know
which side I’m on…

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