Beneath the glimmer of a naked bulb,
Within the embrace of the cold night's air,
He lives.
Under the shadow of another,
Huddled inside a paper-thin layer,
He lives.
With hands worn out,
With shirt in tatters,
With all hope gone,
With companions forgotten,
And still, he lives...
*found this bit of poetry after my stint of rummaging through my paper-filled cabinets yesterday. wrote it way back in tenth grade ESL where it was supposed to be based on a photograph that Emily gave us from the newspaper; mine was about a homeless guy wrapped up in front of a hotel in Brazil, but since i don't have access to a scanner, i just ended up taking a photo off Google (couldn't find the same, exact one, but it's close enough). just thought it'd be nice to share.
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