Graduation for the Homeless


There is a fiery hot, yet negligent compassion
Pulsing through the veins (your’s)
Motions, fluid yet disagreeing with
The prepositional phrases
Collecting under fingernails (your’s)
Like dirt and dried blood clawed from cheeks
Of victims desperate to win
A gracious glance from guilt-striken eyes
Captivated by the streaks of
Ghostly cleanliness on
The cheeks of victims desperate to win
A decaying morsel once entrusted
To the hands of the overly self-conscious
Spewing their souls in the darkest of corners
If I were rich, I would buy you all soap;

It is time for you to come clean.

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