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He Loves The Blink Of An Eye MAG
A dirty old man winks at me
from beneath his greasy hair
that dangles about his eyes
creepy looking -
dressed in bags
and smiles
with yellow-rotted teeth
He wanders,
aimless in search
his dark eyes like mirrors,
reflecting pompous smirks
and devilish smiles of passers-by
who never give and only take -
but his eyes never empty of these Monsters
unlike his pockets do -
his loneliness only builds
like the layers of dumpster clothing
he piles upon his ghostly fame
poor old man
alone,
emaciated,
always staring,
as I Wink back.
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"If everyone were perfect, Individuality would be extinct." -Rachel Chace (me)