He works hard all day, and I can't blame you for your rays. I can't blame you for his lack of eduacation, nor his lack of or language. All my life, he worked hard to provide for two ungrateful women, and it isn't till' now that I recognize his struggle. He dpeneds on others to stop him, in hope that they'll buy a treat. Your heat is high today, too high. He's drenched in sweat and his skin tone has become very dark because of you, he has blisters that pop ful of blood, but he continues to ride in the streets of the hot sun. He attempts to protect himself by applying sunscreen, then I wish him to have a great day. There goes the sweat again, dripping down his dark mexican face. Hide your heat, tone it down. Here he comes, he's home now. I greet him with a hug and smell the sweat on his neck and shirt, I ask him how his day was, "bien bien" he says, but I know he lies, and I know it's because of you, that he hates his life.
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