Sometimes the beauty inside us
Becomes a twisted fatality
Blending hearts and minds into
Swirling blurs of lost identities
Fighting the good fight doesn’t mean
Losing your sight or your way
Just means while on the ground
You have time to look around
See us now or later doesn’t matter which
We are not what you think or thought
Too many of us existing
Only to subsist
In the wake of scarce necessities
The bystander can no longer afford
To look away from the tidal wave
Of untold poverty
Do-gooders beware of Loud Mouth’s wrath
The one who says he’s not so nice
Championing the homeless voice
By the name of Mark Horvath
When it comes to sandwiches and gospels
We’ve been stuffed till full
Thanks to hardly normal efforts
We Are Visible
I like your joint. Good stuff.
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