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Bus Stop Angel
I sat down at a bench today,
at a bus stop as it speed away.
by a young girl
who seamed sad and gray,
I asked her what might be wrong.
but not that long she opened up,
and said she thinks all my angles have gone away,
so I asked her,
why you think this might be so,
she tells me is in a low paying job,
but that her life is falling apart,
and then she starts to cry,
as then the rain comes down on us both,
I give her my last bill,
place it in her hand shaking still,
as I start to get up,
I say there angles everywhere,
then she runs in front of the next bus and was killed.
poem
by
Walter C. Edwards
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