Poor Child

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They don't see a child. They see the face of society's problems.

Standing in lunch line
Free meal ticket shines
In hand, bright yellow
Only eight years old
Already I sense

Scorn
Disgust
Apathy
Even hatred

On the faces of
Those who stand above
Looking down upon
My hair cut by Mom
Mismatched, yard-sale clothes

Poor
Lazy
Indigent
Taxpayer dimes

They don't see a child

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There's more where that came from!