The Unfortunate Contrasts in NYC

Hungry…cold…alone

Often we forget such feelings within our bones

Met with condemning glances, she feels as if she is about to be stoned

Eyes wide open, but still shut

Look away to dismiss the lack of even a hut

Endless fun abounding on our trip

Safe from all her cuts and

Slaves to our own selfish guts

This poem is about: 
Our world

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