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This Comes to Those Who Loved to Pose Near Ghettos

An accustomed greed
Did not allow them to consolidate,
With those in need.
Those homeless without shelter.
And being depleted
As the greedy fed...
To feed and tease.

And they teased.
Requesting qualifications,
And deciding which among them
Would be pleased to be in their presence.
Instituting...
An awareness that divides,
By racist lines an intelligence may hide.
Groomed by standards that have been subpar...
Below that in some places.
And getting caught by the trappings,
Of low gutter bars.

'Are they the ones...
Experiencing a reversal that's begun? '

Dripping wet and running fast...
To escape a nightmare born on 'crack'.
This comes to those who loved to pose near ghettos.
In pictures to depict themselves above others.
And now they find themselves so below,
Feeling an absence of a glow once flaunted.
They can not be driven away from their pretensions.
Clutching the air for something to grasp.

And it hurts to know...
Someone wishes suicide,
Than to be by the side...
Of another human being.
One who has lived honestly.
And that fact in comparison demeans,
It seems.

And dreams lifted,
From behind the backs of those attacked...
Those who have been left...
Without possessions.
Medicate.
To keep a feeling of a worthless hollowness,
Defended to protect nonexisting interests owned.
Or turf to settle 'beefs' on streets...
Where they did not invest sense or time!

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